The Collinsport Chronicles XXIII: The Collinsport Connection
by Maryland Rose
Summary: The Mob is moving into Collinsport, the FBI comes in, to the sheriff's irritation, and the vampire in charge of spying on the goings-on faces a silver bullet.
1. Chapter 1

Derek has found that there are Mob figures moving into Collinpsort and is keeping tabs on them for the sheriff. Ruby Tate is gone, satisfied with what Barnabas could give her. Peal Loomis was born to Louella and Willie. In the meantime Delia is falling under the influence of a whip which had been used in slave ships. The sheriff has taken in Urien Yost, a street kid.

* * *

THE COLLINSPORT CONNECTION

Chapter 1

It seemed strange. No crisis awaiting him. How long was it before he could say that? Yes, there had been moments of calm before, but they had been a false calm. Something was waiting to pounce on them.

Maybe this time too...

Even so, he should be grateful for what he had. Good friend, a good life, little Pearl. He had been blessed more than he had dared to hope.

He remembered his hopes. First, marriage to Josette. Then, later, a desperate searching for freedom from his curse. Then other dreams, hunted as desperately, and as uselessly.

And now, when he had learned that none of it would come to pass he had found a wealth of happiness that he had not thought possible.

He had found love. Part of him cringed at that word being applied to George. But each time it protested less. The Puritan upbringing did not have much of a hold in him now.

Ruby was gone... Or rather come back. There were many times when he held Pearl in his arms that he did not think about Ruby at all. It was just a baby now, Willie's baby.

No, things were going right, for a change. Even Carolyn was mellowing. She was even considering inviting Elizabeth back to Collinwood. Maybe he would be able to see Elizabeth again.

A purring noise and something soft rubbed against his leg. He bent down to stroke the cat, who purred more, hungry for affection.

He lifted it. He had made a good decision when he had adopted the whole litter at Elsa's entreaties. They earned more than their keep the way they kept the place free of vermin, and their beauty and quiet affection had given him many happy moments.

It had been a while since he had seen Elsa...

And he knew why. He had learned that Elsa had once been Sarah. He had been overjoyed by it, as the pain of that last meeting with her, when Sarah had told him he had lost her because of the people he had hurt, was deep in him. Sarah was come back and forgiven him at last, and she was his sister again...

But she was not his sister now. She could no be. She was Elsa /Quarles now. And she was to be allowed to grow up and live her life as Elsa Quarles.

If he kept away from Elsa, he would not succumb to the temptation to force her to be Sarah again.

He had tried something like that, once. It still brought him a chill to remember how it had been. That he was right about Sarah did not make things better.

So he removed the temptation. He visited Alma less now, and was careful to make sure that Elsa was sleeping or staying overnight with friends.

But if he could look at Pearl without thinking that she had once been Ruby, then he could go to Elsa and accept her as she was, not as she had once been. The pain was gone and he mourned for it no longer.

And Elsa was growing fast. There was less of the impudent brat in her and more of the young woman.

And she' get over her crush for him soon.

He laughed at that. It felt so good to be able to laugh. He had spent too much time unable to laugh, to find joy in anything, to find amusing that a prepubescent child would fall in love with him. Amusing without malice, without bitterness.

And less than six months ago, he was unable to accept the love he now shared with George.

He was changing, still. And he did not try to fight his destiny anymore, but instead searched for the treasures he could find in it. And they were many indeed.

* * *

Iris found Violet packing.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I am going to live with Delia."

"Delia? Why?"

"She's my friend. She wants to have me and Peter."

"But you are my sister. I want you to stay with me."

"I don't want to take charity any longer. Delia says that she can find something for me at the hospital."

"And what else?" Iris asked, too many things that she had thought odd coming together."

"What else? What do you mean?" Violet asked flustered.

"Are you supposed to be her lover, too?"

Violet stood up angrily "I don't see what business it is of yours!"

* * *

George was not in when he called, but Urien was. Barnabas smiled at him, pleasantly. Urien grimaced in response.

For a social reclamation project Urien did not look too successful. he did not trust anyone, had no desire to abandon his way of life, wretched as it was, and it was only the implied threat of George's authority that kept him from running away.

"He isn't here." Urien said surly to him.

"I know. But he will be back."

Maybe if George had no tried to rape him in that cell Urien would be more willing to believe in his protestations that he only wanted to help him out of the goodness of his heart. But he doubted that it would make much difference. Goodness of heart was not the kind of thing that Urien had run into very often in his squalid existence. Love and kindness were as alien to Urien as they had been to Ruby.

Urien looked at Barnabas, studying him. How close was this man to Brant? Could he help him?

He did not want to stay here, not with the sheriff. What did he want with him? A servant?... maybe a slave?

He had heard some stories about what some weird guys did to the boys they picked up. They made a pretense of keeping you and then one day you found out what they really wanted to do with you. The leather straps and the whip. But for _real_.

It must be that. Brant did not touch him because he was saving him for the big party.

He liked it less and less each day. He had to get away from here, one way or the other. But Brant had his badge, and he was only a two-bit hustler, and Brant could have him back in no time, unless he found a protector.

He moved towards Barnabas, wiggling his hips suggestively.

Barnabas lifted his eyebrows, surprised at the crude display. He felt a bit sickened by it. So young, and he had already learned that much.

Urien smiled disingenuously. "Do you want to pass the time while he's away?"

Barnabas looked at him guardedly "What do you have in mind?"

Urien wriggled his hips again. "Like, having a piece."

Barnabas tried to keep himself calm. "Are you offering yourself to me?"

"You like boys, don't you? At least once in a while. Maybe you can take me for yourself. I know a few tricks to keep a man happy."

Barnabas shook his head. "No."

"Why? It will be fun. And don't worry about the sheriff being mad at you. He doesn't do it with me."

Barnabas smiled. "I know. He does it with me."

The blood drained off Urien's face. This was Brant's lover. How could he be so stupid? And now Brant would know of it, and Barnabas would be the one to hold him while Brant used the whip and the branding irons...

* * *

The FBI man was quite young. And arrogant, as only the young can be. Like an FBI man can be with a backwoods sheriff. George Brant had to remind himself, as he often did that there were severe penalties for strangling Federal employees. Just because the man seemed to think that he was a subhuman form of life did not give Brant the right to kill him.

"Well, now that I am here, I will see that this investigation is carried out properly"

"You'll see that we are ready to handle it. The man I assigned to this case told me that there will be big shipment soon and that we will catch several big ones.

The man waved his hand, indicating how little he thought of Brant's operations. Yes, the local talent could supply them with information, sometimes. But to carry out an operation of this size, no. They very likely would bungle it up."

"You don't have our sophisticated methods for doing this kind of thing."

"We got the experience. This area was full of rum runners doing Prohibition. We learned one thing or two then."

Was it the man's natural unpleasantness or was it his training? George had yet to see any FBI man treat him with anything resembling professional courtesy.

He wondered again. Maybe, if they picked a jury carefully, he could have it called justifiable homicide.

* * *

He had the feeling that he was being watched. It was a vague sensation that he could not pin down to anything. Only the knowledge that somebody's eyes were fixed on him

But there was no one there. No one but him. And the mosquitoes who were having a full meal off him. And then a few night birds and bats...

Bats. Herbert Miller froze. There were three... people around who could disguise themselves this way, and any of them would tell the sheriff if they guessed what he was up to.

He turned around, feeling fear, deep fear inside him. If any of them had observed him... if the sheriff found out...

Yes, there were bats, at a distance. But which one wasn't really a bat, which one was a spy?

Of all the lousy places, it had to be Collinsport...

He had a gun. And from now one he would put silver bullets in it. And with luck he'd kill the spy.

After all, it was one of those stinking things that had made Sandy turn against him. He would not let them ruin his chance for big money.

* * *

Frank studied the profile of the man surveying the dockside with a proprietary air. He had seen before, but where?

Then the man turned and recognized Frank "Frank Torrance!" he said superciliously "So this is where they exiled you."

"Yes, it is me." Frank seethed inwardly. The man had known him in better circumstances and was now amused to see him this way. "Curt Kinsley. From the FBI, right?"

"Right!"

"Did they exile you too?" Frank asked with false camaraderie.

"No. I am here on business. On the Bureau's business." that was said with a look that warned Frank to ask no more of it. "how about you?"

"I am doing well. I am getting married. Her name is Buffy Harrington."

"Well, that is something to celebrate, then."

"Do you want to meet her? We could arrange a dinner date."

He did not know what made him offer the invitation. He cared little for Curt. But Curt would love to see him humiliated and broken. He wanted to show him that it was not so.

Damn it, he wanted to show the bastard up!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So Urien offered himself to you?" George asked

"It was not me that he wanted." Barnabas explained. "He would have offered himself to anyone who offered to take him away from here.

"I know." George sat down. "Barnabas, what am I going to do with him? I want to help him, but he doesn't trust me. Maybe if I hadn't tried to rape him... Somehow he doesn't believe I was only trying to scare him, and I don't blame him for it. Still, I am the best chance he's got."

"Maybe it is your refusal to sleep with him. He expects that, and it scares him that you don't do it. He does not know what to make of you."

"And the fact that I am gay makes it worse. I mean, if I was straight he could not understand my not touching him. But this makes no sense to him. Why would we want him if we did not have a threesome in mind? We say that we want to be paternal to him. Only, the last man who spoke about being a father to him was his stepfather and he was the first one to rape him." George grimaced painfully "I don't think that Urien knows what 'paternal' means."

"He reminds me somehow of Willie." Barnabas spoke slowly "the way he used to be at first. He was an abused child, too. And he'd done a bit of hustling" he grimaced again. "there was only one reason why Jason wanted to cut Willie into his deals... Poor Willie, I was rotten to him, then. Still, I was the best thing that happened to him."

They looked at each other "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"Give him Willie's old job?" Barnabas nodded. "Hold him the same way I did Willie, but without the brutality. That way I can tell Buffy to marry Frank without any guilt feelings about abandoning me. I told her that I can manage without her, but she does not seem to believe it."

"Poor Urien." George said. "He's going to be terrified when he finds out what's the matter with you."

"I know. But the alternative is to have him run away."

"Yes. I know that."

"Well, on another tack, what did the FBI man come to your office for?"

"To give me the usual spiel as to how a hick like me should be honored that the FBI wants to raid my files, make use of my work and get all the glory" he laughed a bit angrily "but you don't want to hear the same story again. Nor of how many times I promised that one day I was going to show him up."

"And it is the same problem that Derek alerted you about?"

"Yes. The one you are not supposed to discuss with anyone. " he sighed. "I was in top of it, thanks to Derek, and I was getting ready for the big bust when this... this kid barges into my office and demands, not requests, demands my files and takes charge, telling me that he'll teach me how to run it. That pipsqueak, that runt... that... oh, well, you have me heard before on the subject, haven't you?"

"I have."

"One day I'll show them. One day..."

* * *

"So how are you doing back in DC?" Frank asked while using bread to sponge juice from his plate.

"Very well. There are going to be changes made, with his new Administration."

Frank grimaced. "Well, seems I got out of there just in time, them."

"Reagan is going to build up law enforcement and defense again. And give us a free rein."

"Sure and cut everything else. The, when the poor get desperate, he'll use you and your colleagues to crack their skulls and keep them quiet."

"Standard liberal cant. Why don't you admit that your political philosophy is bankrupt? If the American people rejected you at the polls, it is for something."

"What do you believe in?" he knew that it was folly to goad Curt, that it only gave him more chances to gloat. Yet something was driving him to it.

"I believe in the right to life."

"Sure, until they are born. Then they are fair game. Look at Reagan's nominee for human rights, for instance. No man who truly cared about the right to life would nominate Lefever. One of those creeps that believe that having your fingernails pulled out doesn't hurt if it is done by an ally of the United States. All their moral outrage they save for the communists"

"Are you saying that communists don't do those things?" Curt asked with irony.

"I say that it is safer these days to live in Poland that in Guatemala or El Salvador."

"What about Cambodia?"

Frank realized that he was losing his patience sooner than he expected. "Do you know how much money I sent to relief agencies there? And Uganda too. I supported the coffee boycott there with money and time. And assistance to the boat people. I did don't say "America first" as you did. It was your kind, with your crocodile tears who did. Reagan makes nice speeches about the Holocaust, all right. Now that it is safe to be morally outraged by it. But they said about Hitler them what you say now about every tinhorn fascist you support. Sure, he's a son of a bitch, but he's our son of a bitch. He stopped the spread of communism. His methods are rough, but they do the job. Wasn't that what many said? And you haven't learned your lesson yet. But why should you? You never were at the receiving end."

Curt smiled superiorly and it took all of Frank's willpower not to slug him.

* * *

"I want you to do something about it." Iris insisted to George.

"I don't see what can be done. Your sister's an adult."

"I don't want her to live with Delia Harding."

George had his own opinion about Delia, but his opinion did not matter in this case.

"It is not in my jurisdiction. Neither she nor your sister have broken the law."

"I believe that they are lovers." Iris lowered her voice.

George shrugged, a bit irritated. "They are two consenting adults."

"But the child!:

"Violet is his mother. Maybe, if you tried hard enough you could prove her to be an unfit mother." his eyes glistened angrily. "You'd find quite a few judges who'd say that her being a lesbian makes her an unfit mother. But you won't be doing the child any favors."

"Peter could stay with me."

"Since when have you acted maternal towards him? It is a matter of public record that you have called him an impossible brat, that you wish you could beat him good to teach him a thing or two. You have never referred to him as your nephew. Everybody says that it always is "that damned brat."

"But..."

"You don't approve of your sister's lifestyle. Well, that's regrettable. But to try to get the law to solver your own private conflict, well, that's something else. I told you once, I told you a thousand times, that we got a Bill of Rights in this country."

"If only it wasn't Delia." Iris said plaintively.

For a moment George was thoughtful. He knew enough about Delia. Some party of him winced, but he was angry at Iris for what she implied about Violet's new liaison. He was sure that if Violet had taken up with a man Iris would not have come to him, no matter how disastrous the man was for her sister.

He had seen a woman who had her children taken away from her for the same reason. Later he had had to arrest the father for child molesting. The children that had been returned to him by the judge. It was now a tangled mess with the law, the mother, and the children. He had told the judge a thing or two about his standards of morality that only served to wreck children's lives. The judge had begun to quote the Bible, and he had answered the judge that Bible knowledge was no excuse for being a pimp, which is what he had been to the child molester... It had earned him a citation for contempt, of course, of which he was most proud.

"So you won't cooperate?"

"I see no reason why I should intervene."

* * *

"You want me to attack the FBI man? Megan asked, a wry smile in her mouth.

"Just to teach him a lesson." Franks said.

Megan sat back. "I wonder about my reputation. It brings in all kinds of weird requests."

"Well, you attacked me, didn't you? Why not Curt Kinsgley?"

"It was a question of money, not revenge."

"I don't want revenge... I just want to teach him a couple of things."

Megan shook her head . "You are out of control. You are prey to your emotions. You want to get even with whoever exiled you here and you want to take it out on Kingsley I do not like dealing with people who are out of control. Specially when it comes to tangling with the FBI. I am not taking on the job."

* * *

He had to run away. He could not stay there any longer. Between Brant and Collins they had it in for him. Even if they sent him to Juvenile Hall, he' be better off there.

He took off his shoes, so as not to wake up George sleeping in the other room, picked up his things and went out through the window, since George locked the door and he did not want to figure out how to pick the lock.

There was little light outside when he came out. But enough to find his way out of town.

Dark scared him. It always had. Over the years he had learned to put up with his fear, as he often had to walk in the dark to survive. But he didn't like it. He knew that it was a dog-eat-dog world, and that he was only a small, weak dog. More prey than predator. and so it would be until he got tough enough and mean enough to change that.

...Or get killed...

He moved along. With time he'd get to the station in time for the next bus. An then he'd never set foot in Collinsport gain.

Then he was caught.

The hand on his shoulder would not let him go in spite of his trying to shake it off. He tried to kick the owner of it, but he could not. He was forced to turn around.

Barnabas Collins looked ghastly in the half-light that the moon allowed, his natural pallor becoming green. And his eyes shone like a cat's.

"Are you trying to escape?" There was no evident menace in his voice, but the firmness of it, coupled with his shining eyes made Urien scream.

"You have to stay." Barnabas tried to speak calmly, to somehow make this troubled youth understand what he was being offered.

"Why?" Urien began to tremble. He was caught. And this weirdo was one of the worst you could meet. He felt it. "Please, let me go."

"I can't do that."

The free hand came down, caught Urien's chin and made him look into the glowing eyes. Urien felt dizzy and weak, unable to stop looking at them, unable to move away.

Barnabas did not wish to frighten Urien. So he was quick about it. Just a small flash of his fangs, and he bit.

But it was enough. Urien screamed, and kept screaming while Barnabas drank.

* * *

Herbert Miller felt uneasy. And not just about being spied on. There was something about this cargo... Maybe it was the people who asked him to do this...

What was exactly that he was supposed to bring in? They had not even told him that. Only that he would be well paid.

From a distance, Derek studied him. He was thankful for his small unobtrusive bat body. If it were not for his ability to disguise himself this way, he would not dare approach mobsters.

It was getting dangerous very quickly in here. One of the reasons why he liked Collinsport was that it was such a safe place. But it was getting less so.

And if those people began moving in in earnest, how long would it take them to wonder whether Elmer Urrey was really dead?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Urien was lying on the couch at the Old House, moaning, while Barnabas applied a wet towel to his forehead.

The pulse was steady, and there was no physical damage that he could see.

If only he had been quicker about it. If Urien had not panicked and tried to fight him off..

He looked as young and vulnerable as... as he was, actually. All that toughness that he projected to protect himself was only a pretense. Urien was only a scared child who had known little unselfish love and could not recognize it now.

It seemed almost impossible to teach it to him now. George had not been able to. Urien remembered too well what had happened in the cell. As for him would this attack make it impossible for Urien to trust him?

He would not give up on Urien. Cost what it would, Urien was worth saving. If he, himself had been worth saving when Julia found him out, how much more Urien was? He would never have to pay the price that Julia had.

Urien opened his eyes slowly, then seeing Barnabas, closed them in a hurry.

"Don't pretend." Barnabas chided him "I know that you are awake."

Reluctantly Urien opened his eyes again. "What...what did you do to me?"

Barnabas grinned sadly. "You asked me to keep you, didn't you? I am taking you at your word. You don't have to stay with George if you don't want to. I hope that you will be able to trust me better than you do him."

Urien's eyes widened with fright. "What...what are you?"

"A friend. Someone who wishes you well."

* * *

It burned him inside. The way Curt acted, the way he... gloated. It was too much.

But Megan would not take it. So what was left? Start making crank calls? Try to run him over with his car?

It would have been so much fun, to have him attacked by a vampire. Curt would not dare make an official complaint. He would just grind his teeth and get out of Collinsport, his smirk wiped off, at least temporarily.

It was a good idea, still. But Megan would not come through. As for Barnabas, forget it. If he ever dared suggest it, he'd get a lecture, laced with all the psychological advice that Barnabas had gleaned from his readings. He wanted revenge, not amateur psychotherapy.

He realized that there was still another vampire. One who would do anything for money, as he had heard.

* * *

Iris played nervously with her handkerchief. In spite of George Brant's blunt words she would not give up on her desire to protect her sister. Violet needed protecting, and Delia was not the woman to have around.

She hoped that she would get better luck with Megan than she had had with Brant. Maybe. She was mercenary enough not to worry about the legal position they might find themselves in.

Angelique looked at her with mild surprise but said nothing. Barnabas was lost to both of them now.

And she did not want Barnabas anymore. She had Sebastian (she forbade herself to think that Sebastian was not the person she really wanted). Still, she remembered the pain and anger she felt at the sight of Iris. And Iris probably would not forget that time when Angelique had tried to choke her.

It was all in the past now. Like Roxanne Drew.

It was a while until Megan was free to receive Iris. She had had to act as counselor to a jealous man telling him that while his wife was faithful, no evidence found to the contrary, he was pushing her away, and one day she would be gone. Eventually the man left, calmer now, and with a fresh bite mark that forced him to act like a normal human being. Megan wiped her mouth, grumbling as to the kind of people she had to deal with, and let Iris in.

Iris found herself repeating the same words that she had told George Brant. Megan listened in silence until Iris was done.

"And what do you want me to do?" she asked, very softly.

Iris did not hear the scorn in Megan's voice.

"I want Violet to come back with me. Or, if she insists in living with Delia, I want to be able to have custody of Peter."

Megan could not keep from snickering. "After what you have been saying in public about your nephew? Lots of luck, honey. I might do difficult stuff, but I don't do miracles."

"But you don't understand. My sister and Delia. They..."

"Are lovers? Is that what bothers you?"

Too late Iris remembered the whispers about Megan being bisexual, about her having an affair with Angelique.

"It is Delia I object to." she tried to explain, sure now that the red face and awkwardness convinced Megan that she was lying "she's not a mentally stable person. What with her whips and chains... you have heard the stories about her, haven't you? Anyone else I would not mind. But her... I don't trust her."

Megan shook her head. "You don't lie well, honey."

* * *

Elsa grinned widely as she saw the familiar face looming over her "You are back." she said. "I thought that you had forgotten that I existed."

"I have not. But I have been busy."

"Everybody says that now you have this kid living with you."

Well, the news had not taken long to get around town. Urien had come to the Old House, and now already everyone knew it.

"Is it because of him that you are so busy?"

It was still a child's jealousy, resenting the attention that Barnabas was paying to someone else. But he could detect underneath the beginning of sexual jealousy.

Elsa was approaching puberty. So soon... Time passed quickly and he hated being reminded of it.

For it did not pass for him, except to give him more memories and to take away the things he now treasured.

He had George now. But of how long? How long until Elsa had grown to the point that he could bite her safely? Because the time would come for that, deny it as he would.

"What is the matter with you?" Elsa looked puzzled. "Why do you look at me that way?'

"Nothing." Barnabas shook himself. "It is something that has been in the back of my mind and I am trying to figure out what it is. Oh, well, I will remember it later. How about you? Ready to start High School?"

"What's the big deal about High School? What happens there?"

"I can't help you much. It's been a long time since I attended anything like it. You'll have to find out on your own."

"Oh, well." she shrugged. "Well, there is nothing like first hand knowledge."

"No, there isn't. What does Edmund say about it?"

"I don't play with Edmund anymore."

"What's the matter? Too much of a kid for you?"

"No, he is OK. But that governess he has, she does not like him to play with me."

"She doesn't want you?"

"She says that he has too much to study."

* * *

"You want me to do what?" Pearce almost screamed.

"Just give him a scare. Don't hurt him."

Derek hesitated. "I never..." he began. Then he remembered Taft and Roger. Sure, he had been in Nicholas' power then. Still, he had learned a few tricks.

He would not have to truly hurt the FBI man, Frank assured him. And he offered him money. He knew that he needed money for the salvage expedition he had planned to get those Russian jewels.

He remembered what he had been told about them. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds...

"All right. I'll give him a scare."

* * *

It was good to unwind this way, George thought, his hand searching for Barnabas'

"How was your day?"

"The usual. I managed to keep from killing the Kingsley guy for another day. I can't promise I will be as restrained tomorrow. And then it was Iris..."

He told Barnabas about it. Barnabas frowned. "Was it wise for you to be so blunt?"

"I was in no mood to be wise."

"I know. Still, you know that we were lovers once. She tried to come back to me. I told her that I had someone else. At the time she believed it was a woman. But she may not believe it now. She could make trouble for you."

"Expose me, you mean?"

"You know what it would mean to you."

"Unemployment." George shrugged "well, I thought about it. My pride would be hurt if I was voted out of office because of it, but I could always become a private detective. Megan would help me there. In fact, Wyncliffe would seem a good place to open one. This way you would not have to commute the way you are doing. And if you ever get tired of working for Julia, I could make you partner... We could move to Bangor, or Augusta."

"I am not sure that I could do well in that kind of work."

"You'd learn. I'd teach you what you'd need to know."

"Megan says that I am a hopeless klutz when it comes to that line of work."

"So, you could continue working as a therapist. Julia could give you referrals. Maybe even have your own private practice. We could really move to a big city."

"I don't know..."

There was a hidden problem with George's plan. The temptation in created in him. If George lost his job in Collinsport, he would also lose his main objection to being turned into a vampire... because a vampire could not run for office, but could always freelance.

The temptation was there, for him... Because then there would be someone in his life that he would not lose to old age and death..

But suppose he did it and did not work? Suppose that George hated him for it?

It was not something to rush into...

A bit later, Barnabas spoke again, keeping his voice light. "I was thinking of getting back in harness. The political harness, I mean."

George's eyes narrowed. "You plan to work for Maggie again?" there was venom in George's voice as he spoke her name. "Don't you know by now what to expect from her?"

"Yes. She deep-sixed me. But there is no reason why we could not work together. After all, she is still a Democrat. And I cannot go around in a state of shock forever, just because we lost the last election. Lefever was rejected by the Senate, and I had nothing to do with nit. It makes me ashamed that I did not even send one lousy letter."

"I don't like the idea of you getting close to Maggie again. No, I am not jealous. I just remember what she did to you in the past and I don't want you to be hurt again."

"I know. But it wasn't all Maggie's fault. I encouraged her to do it."

"She exploited you."

"And I let her get away with it. And you know why. She got into the habit of depending on me. Then she could not control me anymore and she got scared."

George shook his head with disgusts. "I still don't like it."

Barnabas smiled sadly "You still can't forgive her for what she did to you."

"She did nothing to me."

"Except make you collaborate when Sabrina forced me into the Parallel Time room. I felt sick and weak then, and you hated to see me like that. And you were afraid I'd reject you because of it."

George nodded "I _had_ to be in it." he had explained it before, but felt he had to do it again. "I could not stop all of them. And she promised me not to harm you. I came along to see that she kept her word."

"I knew it had to be something like that. And you did protect me."

"If only you had not looked so in pain. I still can't forgive myself for it. It was bad that it had to happen, but that I had to be a party to it..."

"I understand."

"And then to see Maggie keep you on a leash all these years, manipulating you through guilt, making you jump each time she snapped her fingers..."

"That was as much my fault as hers. I could not have up to what I had done. It was easier to let her get away with murder, so I did so. George, I am going to work for Maggie again. But on a healthy basis. She won't pull my strings anymore. And" he smiled "no matter what her personal failings are, she is for the right things."

"Yes. I guess she is." he kissed Barnabas "Be careful. Don't let her hurt you again."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Kingsley downed his drink, enjoying the awed stares of the other customers at the bar. It was probably the first time that they saw a high ranking Federal Employee (or whatever his cover was). He wondered how they would react if they knew he was with the Bureau..

He thought of the case again. If you kept at it, you could get cooperation out of Brant. And his informer, whoever he was, was quite good, he had to admit.

Derek watched him from a distance, a rueful smile in his face. Quite a job he had gotten himself. But it was quite a lot of money for less than an hour's worth of work.

He had to be artistic about it. Stalk him first. Torrance wanted the man scared, not just bitten. He wanted a fancy job of spooking before he bared his fangs.

He grimaced, what Torrance had said was to give a Bela Lugosi imitation. And he had never done any of those. Nixon imitations, yes. He could do them half-asleep. Or Senator Blutarsky. That would be an idea. Get a sheet, a couple of beer cans to squeeze against his forehead and then he'd stalk his prey in style. At least it would be more original than trailing this ridiculous opera cloak.

But he doubted that Torrance would pay him to do a Blutarsky (although, if you stopped to think about it, being stalked by someone as refined and sensitive as Blutarsky would give anyone nightmares). And he wanted to earn Torrance's money.

He changed shape to a bat and dove towards the man, missing his head by less than an inch.

The man gave off an exclamation of surprise. Not scared, just a bit taken aback.

Derek dove again and missed again, then let the man walk away, just a little bit shaken. Then he overtook him and waited for him in a dark alley. Then, as Kingsley got close, he stepped out, staring fixedly at him.

Involuntarily Kingsley shivered. No reason for it. Just a bat with a bad sense of direction. And a fag making eyes at him.

But all the same, he wished he was in his hotel room.

Those eyes. That guy had really weird eyes.

He passed the alley and left the creep behind.

Then the footsteps came behind him. He turned, wanting to catch the fag following him and scare him away. /But there was no one behind him.

He walked away.

And the footsteps followed him.

Again he turned, and again the street was empty.

It must be his imagination. He had heard too many stories about the weird things that happened in Collinsport.

Or maybe one of the smugglers was following him. His hand went instinctively to his gun.

Then another bat grazes his head. Or was it the same one?

And the next dark alley, there was someone there, too.

But it was the same man as before. And he was wrapped in a black cloak... like an opera cape..

"Hey, you!" Kingsley shouted at him. "What do you want?"

Suddenly the man wasn't there anymore.

And he heard laughter..

He turned again, gun in hand. But the street was empty, as it had been before.

Then the bat again. He lifted his gun, tried to find a target to shoot at, tried to make this weirdness stop.

"Get a hold of yourself." he admonished himself "this is only a bat. You've listened to too many tales about the weird goings-on in here. Probably they were laughing at you. Probably they tell the same tales to outsiders, Probably...

One thing for sure. He'd better get back to the hotel fast.

* * *

He felt uncomfortable. He did not visit Collinwood that often, even after his reconciliation with Carolyn. He still felt out of place there.

Was it because he could not keep thinking that Collinwood would have been his and his childrens' if things had been different? A reminded of what could have been...

But he also knew that he could only have that perfect past if he was willing to lose what he had achieved here, the friends he had made, and the love he had found.. And he knew that he was unwilling to do that.

Was it that he knew he could end arguing with Carolyn again, and maybe it would escalate into another feud?

"Well, you are back" Carolyn said. "It's been a while since your last visit. I wondered if I had to send you an engraved invitation."

Barnabas grimaced "I let time pass, didn't I?'

He apologized, then went on to exchange greetings and some pleasant chitchat with her before getting to the point.

"Why don't you let Edmund play with Elsa?"

Carolyn was surprised. "I gave no such order. I said that the study should be his priority, and that he should to be allowed to play until he did his homework."

"Well, he cannot be such a lazy boy that he never gets to play with other children."

"Ms. Oates tells me that he's a willful child."

"Maybe she is too strict. Maybe she wants him to excel so much that he forgets that children need to play and make friends. That there are things that you can learn from friends that you cannot find in books."

Carolyn shook her head, amused. "I forgot, you are the child psychology expert. Too much reading Julia's books, and you know all about a child you barely visit."

"Carolyn, you know why I see so little of him, and why I don't insist on visitation rights. He's still scared of me, isn't he?"

"Yes." Carolyn admitted it. "He was afraid of you. Less now."

"I hope that one day I may see him more. I would like to tell him about his father. And about his mother too... In any case, I think that you are doing a good job as his mother."

"Much better than what you gave me credit for?" she said sardonically.

"Much better." he admitted. "But no job is so good that it cannot be improved."

"Meaning that you want me to confront Ms. Oates."

"Yes. At least let her know that you want Edmund to have friends. And that not all learning comes from books."

"You are right...I think that Edmund was complaining. And Roger too... But Uncle Roger is always complaining;... And she told me that Edmund was a bright child, but did not apply himself, and that he needed discipline..."

"Well, you'll have to assert your authority here."

"Would you mind staying here while I talk to her?"

"It may not be wise to have her berated in front of a witness."

'You are not a witness. You could have been the one with custody. I intend that you be a part of Edmund's life, and dealing with Edmund's governess is included. in the deal."

Miss Oates came in and Carolyn introduced her to Barnabas. "This is Miss Oates, Edmund's governess."

"Pleased to meet you." Barnabas kissed her hand, noting with amusement her surprise and veiled delight in being treated in such an Old World fashion.

"I am pleased to meet you." Yolanda said.

She was nervous, he noticed. Probably Edmund was her first job and she was trying to make good. Maybe that's why she drove Edmund so hard. She must feel that unless Edmund was a brilliant student, she would be dismissed.

"Miss Oates, my cousin has told me something that disturbs me." Carolyn said "About Edmund... Miss Oates, I want you to understand that while my cousin has no custody, he ahs visitation rights, and has a say in Edmund's education. So don't feel like he is a stranger barging in when he tells you about his concern."

Yolanda's face closed.

She thought she might be dismissed, Barnabas thought. He had to reassure her that he thought she did a good job, but that she needed to balance it with Edmund's need for friends.

He said it as gently as he could, while Carolyn nodded. Yolanda turned to look at her, to see what she thought of it. And she saw that her employer was in complete agreement with this stranger, without even bothering to ask what she thought about it.

She tried to keep calm. She felt insulted. If Mrs. Collins was unhappy, why not tell her so directly, instead of bringing in her weird cousin to deliver an opinion?

"I know that you want him to excel" Barnabas spoke placatingly "So do I. But children need to play and make friends to learn things that are not in books. Think about that Miss Oates."

"All right." Yolanda managed to hold on to her dignity. "I will be more lenient in the future."

* * *

A hot bath had done much to restore him. Now, in his well lit room, Kingsley laughed at himself for the way he had reacted on the street.

Like this was a cheap horror movie and he was the Gothic heroine pursued by the villain. So the guy had piercing eyes. Probably a nut. Or a practical joker. He'd have to tell Brant about it. Brant must be of some use around here...

He turned on the TV and watched it, while drinking a Coke.

It took him a while to realize that he was not aloe.

"Who are you?" he asked, reaching for his gun.

"Your gun will not help you." Derek stepped out, fixing his eyes on him. He'd better get that hypnotism trick right. He did not care for wrestling the man. Not while he had that loaded gun on him.

"Who...what are you?" Kingsley could not move, could not keep from staring at the man's eyes. A strange helplessness came over him.

Derek said nothing. He came closer, concentrated in holding the man's will. It would take him very little to break free, if he only knew it...

Then, from the corner of his eye, Kingsley saw the mirror on the wall. Saw what was reflected, and what wasn't.

"No!" he screamed, lifting his gun "No!"

Derek hit him on the hand, making him drop the gun, then threw him over the bed, immobilizing him under his own weight and while Kingsley kept screaming and fighting, he bit him.

* * *

The gun pressing against his skin gave him a feeling of security. If that snoopy bloodsucker cared to spy on him, he'd teach him a thing or two.

No one but him knew that there were silver bullets in it. No one needed know. And shooting at bats, the worst that he could be accused of was hunting without a license. Maybe they would make more trouble if they decided that bats were endangered species.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe no one was following him. but it didn't hurt to bring the gun along.

* * *

Urien could not sleep.

Not while Barnabas was out there. Flying... feeding...

He would sleep late tomorrow. But anyway, Barnabas would not be there to check at what time he started his chores.

He shivered again, as he did each time he thought of Barnabas and his situation. What kind of creature was he working for?

These things did not happen. It could not happen. Those were just stories... movies and the like. Not real life.

He wished that he could watch TV. It would keep him busy, unable to think. But there was not TV. There was no electricity whatsoever. He had a transistor radio with him, but it was not the same.

He wished he had gone swimming today. But Barnabas had not told him anything about being allowed to go, so he had played it safe and stayed inside. At least, the interior of the Old House was cool enough. As Barnabas had explained, it had been built before architecture had discovered energy inefficient construction.

Why did Barnabas want him? What would he do to him? It wasn't sex. It wasn't blood. It wasn't even a master-slave relationship, even if, technically, he could be called Barnabas' slave.

Why did Barnabas do it? For the housekeeping? He could get lots of eager help with less bother.

He said that he wanted to help him.

That was a good one. Why should anyone help him? That didn't happen. Nobody did anything for anyone without a reason. There were always strings attached.

If only he could figure out what the deal was.

He turned in his bed. The moon was high in the sky and sunrise was still hours away.

He shivered again. He recalled Barnabas' face as she woke up every night. He had such a fierce, angry look then. It made him want to hide, to run away.

Barnabas had tried to tell him that it was not anger in his face when he woke up, just the strangeness he felt each dusk as consciousness returned to him. That most people learned not to pay attention to it. No more than they would to the bad humor brought by sleeplessness on normal people.

But Urien did not believe it.

Then he knew that Barnabas had come back. He could not tell how, since Barnabas did not bother with the door, but he was back.

He heard the steps come up the stairs. Quickly he closed his eyes and turned his face towards the wall.

Barnabas looked in. Urien seemed to be sleeping. Poor kid. He wished so much to help him. But reaching him was hard...

"Sleep well, Urien."

"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

George tried to keep his temper. How could he explain it to the FBI? Tell them that their man had been attacked by a vampire?

Well, he could get Kenneth or Julia to diagnose it as the flu., and then convince Kingsley not to make an issue of it.

It was a real pain.

Then he smiled in spite of his good intentions. He actually had enjoyed seeing that imbecile brought down like this. It had actually improved his disposition. Weak, and erratic, and scared. Very different from the twerp who had come into his office as if he owned it.

Maybe Megan had decided to do him a favor he grinned crookedly - paying him back for past favors, by teaching getting the twerp off his high horse...

* * *

Willie tried not to notice the mincing walk that Urien showed for his benefit. It was embarrassing and if it was up to him, he'd teach the kid one thing or two.

But it was not up to him. It was up to Barnabas.

Again he wondered if he was doing the right thing in coming to Barnabas about it. But somebody had to. Between the kid's mannerisms and the fact that Barnabas was... sleeping (he could not think of a stronger term without shuddering) with George Brant, it was bound to get you thinking why Barnabas wanted the kid at all.

So maybe it was unfair. In the days when Barnabas slept with women no one questioned as to why he had taken in Louella, or Oriana, or Vicky, or Buffy. If Barnabas said that, except for blood, he did not touch them, he believed it. Why couldn't he believe it now?

Maybe it was true that Barnabas only wanted to straighten up a kid with too many bad breaks.

But a kid who moved that way? He was not dirty minded. He had eyes, and he could see,

Then Barnabas was up and facing him.

"Barnabas" he said quickly "I hope you don't mind what I have to say to you."

"It is bad, isn't it?"

Willie nodded.

Barnabas wondered what made Willie so guarded. Maybe the fact that he had a child to protect. He had offered Willie to baby-sit before, but Willie always turned him down. It hurt him a bit that Willie should be afraid of him, but he understood it.

"Can we talk?" Willie asked "in private?"

Barnabas signaled to Urien who left the room, still wriggling his hips. Barnabas looked at him with sadness. He probably had made a play for Willie, to see if he would take him away. Poor Urien.

"You should not have that kind in here." Willie blurted out. "it is bad for you."

"He needs me." he was amused "did he try to get you to protect him?"

"He didn't say anything." Willie growled. "If he did, I'd have hit him."

Understanding came to Barnabas. "Is that the reason why you don't want me to baby-sit Pearl?"

"Of course. I don't want him handling my daughter."

Barnabas laughed. "You mean that you were not worried at all that I might get hungry when she's with me?"

"Of course not!"

"But you think that I am keeping Urien for... personal reasons."

"I... I don't think that. Only that it makes things harder for you. What with you and Brant " Willie blushed, showing Barnabas that he had not accepted the situation yet. "letting a male prostitute have the run of your place will start people talking."

"They never objected to the others I brought here. They know that I am always bringing home birds with broken wings."

"But none of them flaunted themselves the way Urien does."

"That's all he knows what to do. You can't expect him to change overnight."

"You should get rid of him. It will save you a lot of problems."

Barnabas considered the situation "You don't like him?"

"No, I don't"

"Reminds me you of someone?"

"Like who?" Willie tensed up.

"Like yourself?"

"I never sold my ass!" Willie shouted "Whatever else I did I never sold myself!"

"I never said you did." Evidently Willie had blanked out the details of his relationship with McGuire. Well, he would not be the first, nor the last to forget unpleasant facts. "It is just that something in him reminds me of the way you used to act when I first met you."

"I don't see the resemblance" Willie protested again, too strongly this time.

"I do. And you benefited in the long run from being around me. I can't see why he won't, too. Of course, I'll skip the brutality part. That did not help you at all."

Willie grumbled. "I still think you made a mistake."

* * *

"I didn't touch then G-man" Megan told George "But I got a request to do exactly that. Frank Torrance. Seems that our friend got under Frank's skin, and Frank decided to teach him manners."

"So Frank might have arranged it. But not with you."

"Ask Derek. He'd do anything for money."

* * *

"I didn't" Derek protested.

"Derek, this is off the record. Personally I think that it did Kinsgley a world of good."

Derek looked at him with distrust. "You mean it?"

"Yes." George said earnestly. "Did Frank Torrance pay you to do this?"

Derek looked down. "All right, sheriff. He said to put a scare on him, that's all. And that was what I did. I did not hurt him nor anything. I'd not have done it otherwise."

"No, you didn't hurt him. Still, it would be better if you did not take any more of those jobs. They might panic, or you might get rough, and before you know it, you'd have a corpse on your hands."

"I know... I got real scared when he got out his gun... But I thought I could do it. And where else can you get so much money for so little work?"

George could not keep from laughing. "You got a point there. But still I don't want you to do this on a regular basis."

"I understand. I won't" Derek agreed "It kinds of scared me, to tell the truth."

"Good. About that other business..."

"There is going to be a big shipment soon. When, I don't know yet."

* * *

Maggie studied Barnabas across the table, grateful for the cup of coffee that gave her something to hold in her hands.

"So we start all over again?" she asked tentatively.

"It seems so." Barnabas managed to keep the hurt he felt from his voice.

"I have a chance to get into the Senate" Maggie said calmly. "Do you know how much I want that? You know how easily you could wreck it? So don't come to me for apologies for sending Sabrina to take care of you."

Barnabas grimaced "One way or the other."

"You sound so disappointed." she said sardonically "as if you had not done the same yourself."

"No. I have and worse." he said. ":But I did note expect it from you."

"You never wanted to see me as I really was. Or am." she accused him. "and then you get hurt and angry because I do not fit your fantasies. First it was Josette. The, when you got over that, you kept seeming me as the sweet young thing I was in 67. You would not see how I had grown and changed. Well, I am sorry. If you have eyes and you don't know how to use them, is it my fault? So, I exploited you. Sure. And you let yourself be exploited. You decided that you owed me, and I took advantage of that. Or rather, since you wanted to pay me back, I accepted your offer to get me things that I really wanted."

"I didn't expect things to work out they way they did."

"Well, you had unrealistic expectations."

"I suppose I should have known" his voice was sad "Why did you do it? Because I owed it to you? Or because you could get away with it?"

"Both."

"Both?" his voice became low. "I thought that at last we had put that thing behind us. After that time when Sabrina brought you to Wyncliffe, I thought it was over.

Maggie's face hardened. "You mention that time, or anything connected with Sister Kira, and I'll have Sabrina stake you. I want no mention of Kira or Kira's activities around me. Is that clear?"

There was pain in Barnabas' eyes. "So it is come to this."

"It is over, Barnabas. it is not to be talked about ever more. I know, sometimes it gets to you and you want to share. Well, do as I do. When I get too angry, I go to the gym and take it out on inanimate objects. Try punching a bag and see how that helps. When I get bad dreams, I take a sleeping pill. When I have these feelings that try to express themselves, I sing sad torch songs. When I am alone with my thoughts, I play with a Rubik cube. Do the same with your own unresolved feelings. There is even a karaoke bar outside of Collinsport. Go there and sing. And when you deal with me you leave those feelings behind,."

He shook his head. "And to think that I once loved you."

"You loved your fantasy of me. Never the real me."

"I understand."

"Well, as along as you understand, we can have a businesslike relationship with each other."

* * *

"The big shipment should be picked up in about a week" the man seated in front of Herbert told him. "I will tell you the exact date later. You know what you have to do?"

"Yes." Herbert felt irritated at the way this man was stressing the obvious. But he did not dare show it. Somewhere, a red flag had been raised in his mind.

The man was dangerous.

"This is a big job, you understand." the man spoke suavely, but Herbert could see the threat behind it.

"I've done good up to now." he remarked.

"Listen, Miller, yes, you've done good up to now." he fixed Herbert with a cold stare. "We want to make sure that it stays that way. It would be pity to have to waste you.

Herbert nodded, the blood draining from his face.

"You are good, Miller. but you can be replaced easily if it came to that. So don't get any ideas."

Herbert nodded again.

"You get my meaning, Miller?"

"Yes. I do."

"Good." The man smiled, a predatory smile. "It is good to see that we understand each other."

* * *

"Peter come here immediately." Delia called.

Peter hunched his shoulders, pretending that he had not heard her.

"Come here, Peter." Delia's voice was deceptively sweet. Peter shivered, wishing that he could become invisible. That voice meant that a whipping was coming, and worse, if he did not do it without delay.

He looked helplessly around. There was no way that he could escape it.

"Peter, do I have to look for you?" Violet joined. "You come here now, bad boy."

Bad boy... his mother never called him bad boy before.

"Are you coming or not? I cannot wait forever."

Reluctantly he got up and went to them.

"You have been a bad boy, Peter. You know that." Delia spoke, crossing her arms.

"A very bad boy." Violet echoed. "You have to be punished."

"No! Don't do it!" Peter screamed. "I promise to be good! Don't do it! Please!"

He tried to grab the furniture and the walls to keep from being dragged, but it was not use. Violet tied her son's wrists and left him hanging by them while Delia began caressing her whip.

Peter looked so enticing. with his red eyes, his clogged nose, his fear... there was this feeling running through her palms, like an electric current, where she touched the whip.

Violet's eyes shone as she waited for the whip to begin its work. Se had put up with so much. First her husband and now Peter. She could not pay her husband back for what he had put her through, but she could hurt Peter.

She was going to teach him to respect his mother.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"All right. I'll overlook it this time." George said to Frank "I have to."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Frank tried to brazen it out.

"Don't waste time. Derek confessed to me what you asked him to do."

"Derek Pearce is a pathological liar."

"Derek is a lot of things. Pathological liar is not one of them. He knows the difference between lies and truth, and when he should stop lying."

"All right." Frank gave up. "So I did. What of it? He was asking for it."

"That's more like it." George agreed. He fingered his badge absentmindedly as he spoke. "Off the record, I agree with you. But it would be better if you never did anything like this again. I might not cover up for you next time., And if I do it, I'll first kick you ass all the way to the jail before I let you go."

"I understand."

"Good. You are supposed to be getting married. Do so, and don't give me any more headaches."

* * *

It was a small party that the Andersons were giving. No reason for it, they just felt like having one.

It had not been that long since their reconciliation, but when you saw them now you'd think that they had never parted.

Barnabas felt a twinge of regret realizing that Julia would now depend on Kenneth instead of him. The last emotional ties to him had been cut. She would still be his friend. His friend and nothing else. Not even the memory of what might have been.

He had wanted this for her. For himself too. Yet it hurt, in a way.

Willie went to him. "What's the matter?"" he asked, gently. "Do you mind seeing them together again?"

"A bit." Barnabas admitted. "What would it have been like if I could have loved her. .. We will never be that close again."

"But you'll still have her friendship. As you have mine."

"Yes. I had no right to keep her on a string, as I did for too many years. I told her once that her loyalty should be to Kenneth. So she takes my advice and... and I am not so sure that I can be as self-sacrificing as I want to be."

"You just got scared. People who are close to you are moving away, and one day you'll lose them."

"Yes." Impulsively he embraced Willie. "I don't want to think about it. Not now."

Willie patted Barnabas' shoulder, then stopped himself

"What's the matter? Are you worried that I am making a pass at you?"

"No... I..." Willie tried to deny while at the same time breaking free of his embrace.

"Yes. You said you accepted it. But deep down you keep thinking about it, what George and I do, how we do it. "

Willie tried to deny again.

"And because you cannot talk to me about it, you take it out on Urien.

This time Willie did not try to deny. "Look, I told you what jail was like... I know, it is not the same thing. It is not a brutal thing, without love... I kind of believe it. But not truly, not yet."

"I understand that you have to work it out. I will not force the issue. Still..."

"Still, I don't like Urien being the scapegoat of your unresolved feelings. I can understand your not wanting me to baby-sit Pearl because of what I am, but not because of what Urien is."

* * *

Curt's eyes reflected the fright that he had been forced to endure. George felt a twinge of guilt. Granted that the guy was a creep, still what Frank and Derek had done to him had been a dirty trick.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yes. Somewhat better." Curt said.

The fight seemed to be knocked out of him. George liked him better that way. Specially since in his state he'd be in no shape to interfered with his operation.

Curt rubbed his neck. George could see the scars in it. But Curt would never speak of them, nor how they had come to be. So much the better.

He had not engineered Curt's attack. Was it so wrong to profit from it?"

* * *

"How did you spend your day?" Barnabas asked Urien.

"Not bad," Urien answered, non-committally.

"Did you go swimming?"

Urien shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You didn't say that I could."

"I didn't say that you couldn't."

"No, you didn't" Urien admitted.

Barnabas had to remind himself to keep his temper. Urien was scared enough without that.

"Urien, unless I forbid you to do something, you can do it. Provided that it is within the boundaries of common sense. Next thing, you'll be asking me permission to blow your nose!"

"So I can go swimming after all?"

"Yes. But only in beaches with lifeguards. And follow instructions. Don't go in too far, don't overstrain yourself..."

Urien endured the mini-lecture at best he could. This was what disconcerted him most. Not Barnabas's refusal to sleep with him, not his vampirism, but his confounded habit to lecture at all times.

"So what did you do all day?"

"Not much. There is not TV here."

"No, there isn't . But there are plenty of books. Did you borrow any of them?"

"I didn't"

"They are good books. And you know where they are."

"I saw them."

"But you didn't pick any of them? Not even out of curiosity?" he stared at Urien "I will not be mad if you did. As a matter of fact, I want you to read them."

Urien shook his head again. "I did not rid any of them."

Barnabas was about to lecture him again, but there was something in Urien's tone that made him think twice about it.

He took Urien's face in his hands. "Look into my eyes, Urien."

Urien had to do so.

"Did you read any of them?"

"I didn't"

"Do you read at all?"

"No. I don't"

"Do you know how to read?"

"No, I don't"

Barnabas let him go. His suspicion had been right. The educational system had failed Urien, letting him go into High School without teaching him the rudiments of an education.

Maybe it was a form of dyslexia, never diagnosed nor treated. Or a bad teacher. A succession of bad teachers. Or the belief that you would traumatize your students if you didn't pass them whether they deserved it or not...

And the result was now before him.

He released Urien from his mental hold.

"Urien, you are going to learn how to read."

"I don't have to! I can manage all right!"

"You'll just have to."

* * *

"I let Derek and Frank go with just a warning." George explained to Barnabas. "Maybe it was because the victim had been asking for it. Maybe because I need Derek to tell me what the smugglers are planning." he frowned. "Herbert Miller is in it. You know him? Sandy's husband?... And this time I will keep the FBI from hogging the credit."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me."

"No. But I have to justify it to myself."

They were lying on each other's arms. The needs of their bodies had been satisfied and now they tended to this other need, less compelling, yet more solid, to hold each other and talk, taking comfort from each other's contact.

"Urien is illiterate." Barnabas said. "I just found out."

"Is he? But he has been in High School and..." George interrupted himself. "Yes, another failure of the educational system."

"I will have him tested for dyslexia. Something that should have been done years ago."

"Yes. You should. You want me to help there? Urien is as much my responsibility as it is yours."

"Of course, I want your help."

"I understand that Jessica King knows a few people who can help there. Whether she will want to talk to any of us, that is another matter."

"I will try her." Barnabas frowned "Sometimes I wonder why we have educational systems in this country. In the old days many people did not know how to read. Ben did not know and I had to teach him. But if they did not know it, they knew its value. They wanted to learn it. They had to work hard for it, so they valued it. Now that they are spoon-fed it, they don't care for it. Not that I want to go back to those days. But some way should be found to make learning worthwhile, to make people want it."

"Which is a tall order. Not many people want to be challenged.."

"Radio and TV make it worse. In the old days, if you wanted to be entertained, you had to read. Now you watch TV. So it happens that you don't need to read to keep yourself entertained. Or you read comic books, which even half-illiterates can understand, so we get a nation of functional illiterates."

"Barnabas" George could not keep from smiling. "You forget the other forms of entertainment provided, most involving animal cruelty, not to mention public hangings."

"Yes, you area right about that." Barnabas admitted "still how can they allow illiterates to get into High School? How could they not find what was wrong and do something about it? Nowadays a High School diploma is a way of certifying that you have reached a certain age. And then you go to college and have to be put in remedial courses as soon as you get there. And it goes on, and on, and on. How could it have come to this?"

"Don't tell it to me. Try telling it to the Department of Education."

"I criticized Carolyn for employing a governess, but it seems that she's right, after all."

* * *

Angelique was sleeping. But Sebastian, at her side, was still wide awake.

He turned to look at her. She looked so different now, with her eyes closed...

He remembered how Roxanne had looked when she slept in her coffin.

He still missed her. He had become Angelique's lover partly because he wanted to avenge Roxanne. And partly because /Angelique reminded him of Roxanne.

He could not get Roxanne back. And Angelique... what did he feel for her?

He could still feel Roxanne's hatred when she spoke of Angelique. It chilled him to know that Roxie could hate anyone so deeply

He thought with shame of Phillip's breakdown, and of the way Roxie had made him treat Angelique when she was their prisoner. Roxie had been cruel then. Even worse than Sister Kira...

That was no Roxie, not the Roxie she knew and loved.

But whose fault it was that Roxie was like that? Whose but Angelique's?

Should he avenge Roxie, then? He had the means, the opportunity...

But Roxie had forgiven Angelique in the end. Angelique and the rest of them.

Still...

What was he doing in Angelique's bed?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Yolanda still felt angry about it. How did Mrs. Collins dare to correct her in front of a stranger? Of the weird cousin of all people?

And she had to look properly contrite while that weird cousin expounded his education theories.

She had never felt so insulted in her entire life.

Then she caught herself. She reminded herself that she was here under false pretenses. It was not to earn a living that she taught Edmund.

She had lied about herself when she applied for this job, and if she was not careful, she'd be found out before she achieved what she had set out to do.

She was determined to do it. She had promised it to herself, ever since the day they had told her of the contents of the will.

For the sake of that, she should be willing to accept Barnabas Collins' meddling.

* * *

Maggie took off her shoes, turned on the TV and laid herself over the bed.

Things were getting better. Even her relationship with Barnabas had been re-defined, and not broken. She needed him, in a way, still. But he also needed her, and he understood it.

They should have made things clear from the start, but they hadn't. The temptation to control him through guilt was too great and she had succumbed to it. And he had succumbed to the opposite temptation...

The knock at the door interrupted her.

It was George Brant.

"Well, sheriff, what do you want to talk to me about?" she asked in a half-bantering tone.

"What do you want with Barnabas?"

"Why? Is it official business?"

"No. Just personal. I don't care to have you hurt him again."

She stiffened. "I have no intention of doing that."

"But it might happen."

"It might. But I will not be looking for it. It will be a working arrangement, no more no less."

"And you expect him to forget that you once ordered him deep-sixed?"

"I forgot worse about him. I expect to be as realistic as myself about that."

"You were not realistic. You manipulated him through guilt."

"So did you."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you get him in bed, or not yet?" Anyway, if you ever do, it will be because of Dave Woodard."

George looked at her with hatred.

"Don't be coy, sheriff. I keep myself well informed of what happens in town."

* * *

He should not have gotten involved in this, Herbert Miller told himself again, he should not have...

But it was too late now. And as soon as he got paid he'd feel different about it.

He'd have enough money to divorce Sandy and get away from Collinsport once and for all, and that was certainly worth something.

As always, the rage mounted in him when he thought of Sandy. She liked it, running on all fours. And then living with that other dog, Chris Jennings...

It was time she got out of his life for good.

* * *

Carolyn pushed up the papers. Done. It was late, but she had finished with the work for the day. Wryly she thought that if she was a salaried employee instead of the owner she would have left it a lot earlier.

Then Roger came in.

"What is it, this time?" she asked wearily. "What did Miss Oates do this time?"

"There is something odd about her. She's hiding something."

"Oh, Uncle." Carolyn said with dismay "I thought that you were cooling this."

"It is not my imagination." Roger insisted "There is something about her."

"There is something about all of us. Maybe it is just that you don't like governesses."

"It has nothing to do with that!"

"I remember the trouble you gave Vicky. and you weren't warm towards Maggie, either."

"That's all in the past, now."

"And that's where I intend it to remain. You are not going to give Miss Oates a bad time and that's final. Good help is hard to get."

* * *

Derek listened to the men. A big shipment coming in. A really big one. The sheriff would love to know of it. and he' enjoy seeing the thin lipped killer led away in cuffs. The FBI would swarm all over the place, the Mob would stay away and Collinsport would be safe again for him.

Herbert shot a nervous glance upwards. One of those bats, he knew, was hunting for words, not moths. And the he or she would repeat them to the sheriff.

But which bat was it? He could only shoot at one of them. His... associates would not let him go on a shooting spree. No way of explaining to them how a bat could be an informer. And that tight-lipped creep would do something that he knew he would not like.

But he meant to shoot the bugger today. He could not risk having the sheriff know more of this.

If only he could tell which one. He thought he did. The one that was not flying like the rest. If he did not move again in a few minutes, he'd shoot.

Derek listened as the men continuing unfolding the plans for the big shipment. It really was big, this one. Well worth the wait.

The bat was still there while the others flew around. That was it. Herbert wheeled around and shot it.

Pain tore through Derek, making him fall, screeching, almost touching the water's edge when he did.

And he could still hear the men.

"Are you crazy? What did you do that for?" the men were shouting at Herbert.

"I saw someone spying." Herbert tried to defend himself, to explain. But he could not do it very well, since the men would not believe that the bat was a spy.

He heard how they worked Herbert over. Then he stopped paying attention. The water was too close to him. As the tide rose, he'd be swept away.

He could not fly. Not with that bullet in him. he might be able to change shape, but not here where they could see him and finish him off. Herbert had probably more than one silver bullet in his gun.

He was in pain. Worse, he was tired. A strange numbness was creeping on him, and dawn was not too far away.

He managed to drag himself off among the rocks. Any movement cost him. His body was too small in this shape that he only covered very short distances each time he moved.

But it was enough to keep him away from the water. He decided to rest a few minutes before moving on. Maybe by then the men would have moved away had he'd be able to change shape and cover more terrain.

He could not dematerialize, the same way he could not fly. The pain in his chest told him that.

Roger had shot him once, with a lead bullet. It had been painful then, but nothing compared to this.

* * *

Jessica looked at the visitor, amused.

"So you finally caught VD, it seems." she told Barnabas.

"Not me. I come here for someone else."

"Someone else. Not bad. It is usually psychiatrists who get to hear that line."

"It is Urien Yost, the kid who lives at my place."

"Yep. I heard about him. He's got it?"

"No. I asked Dr. Anderson to give him a complete physical and he's got nothing wrong with him. He's got no VD, either. I insisted on that test. Give his previous... occupation it was a very real possibility."

"But he was clean."

"Yes. He'd had penicillin shots before coming to Collinsport and he did not get re-infected."

"Well, that was lucky. I know how it is with his kind." Jessica shook her head. "And he is a child. Only a child."

"Yes." Barnabas agreed "Only a child. And he has already gone through more than you can imagine. I want to make things different for him, but it is difficult. I don't think that he knows what kindness is."

"It is a tragedy, all right."

"And I found out that he is illiterate. He does not know how to read."

"That, too."

"I have been trying to teach him, but I suspect that he might have a learning disability. You said once that you knew somebody who was into treating that kind of thing."

"Yes. Donna Nixon. I can arrange for you to meet her."

"Nixon?"

"Don't say anything about it. She's heard more jokes about her name that she cares to count. You'll have a better relationship with her if you act as if her name was unremarkable."

"Thank you. I'll remember it." he started to leave, then turned back. "Jessica, I know that I am not your husband's favorite person but..."

"It is all right. I wish Zeb was not so pigheaded about it. As far as I am concerned you are always welcome here."

* * *

He was crawling on his hands and knees. He had thought that changing shape would allow him to move faster, but it was not so. It only meant a heavier weight to drag about.

He couldn't call for help. Not with Miller probably around.

How could one bullet have done this to him? Even a silver one?

Miller had a silver bullet. He had been waiting for him.

There would be time later to puzzle it out. Now he had to get to his coffin in safety.

And dawn was coming closer.

He would never make it back to town. If nothing else, because he had to climb up from where he was.

Why did Maine have to have this kind of a coastline? Why couldn't it be more like Florida? Of course, in Florida he'd have to worry about alligators, too.

It was useless to try. He'd never make it in this state.

As he moved he felt the pain of the bullet. It had stopped close to the heart. It had missed it, thankfully. But enough moving around and it would find its way there.

He could not stay put. Moving could kill him. And he'd probably be caught by the dawn, anyway.

He noticed the caves. They were close enough./ And probably dark enough to offer some sort of refuge. He would not be able to rest properly, away from the earth he needed. But it still gave him a chance.

He crawled into the cave. Slowly. Painfully. Only the knowledge that the sunlight was on his heels made him persist.

He felt drowsy. His eyelids became heavy. Terror filled him as he realized what drowsiness meant.

The light could still reach him in here...

Then he saw it. The coffin. He straightened up, as best he could.

It was empty. And there was earth in it. Not precisely the kind he used, but it would do.

What was it doing here? It seemed a bit worn by the elements, as if it had not been used...

He remembered something about Barnabas hiding in the caves in 1897... Maybe that was it, the coffin he used then.

Well, never mind. At least he had a place to stay.

He crawled in. The earth felt strange, but it would do.

Tomorrow he'd get out of there somehow and tell the sheriff what he had found out. Have the bullet extracted and...

His eyes closed and sleep claimed him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Consciousness returned to him. And with it the memory of what had happened last night.

He tried to get out of the coffin but a stabbing pain transfixed him.

The bullet. The last time it moved it touched the heart. One more abrupt movement, and he was dead...

He had to get out. He could not stay here forever. But how?

No one ever came to these caves. It might be ages before they found him.

Then he felt the pangs. Not real hunger still, just a reflex. But it would be hunger soon.

And then desperation. And his body still refused to move.

He tried once again, even at the risk of the bullet killing him. But it did him no good. He was paralyzed.

He could not stay here this way!

He wished that someone would come and find him.

Theoretically he could make people come to him. Send signals that he was in distress.

He tried to project to them. George Brant...Buffy Harrington... Frank Torrance... Willie... whoever he knew reasonably well would do.

"I am here, in the caves. I can't get out. Come for me..."

He did that, again and again. There was little else that he could do.

Yet after a while it seemed so pointless. No one came. He probably wasn't getting through... Who was he kidding? He was no good at it. He remembered the time the had tried to put Sabrina under his power and ended up being shot at by the people he was trying to avoid. Then he had tried to keep an eye in Carolyn, and ended up doing Nicholas' dirty work. And the time that he had gone on a blood-drinking spree - in a good cause, mind you - and ended up vomiting all over the place.

As a vampire, he was a disaster. Not that he ever wanted to succeed at it. It was only a bother, screwing up his fun. But now he needed some of it and he could not swing it.

He had to concentrate harder.

Could Buffy and the others hear him?

Then he remembered what Megan had told him. That you needed a bond, the one that came with blood. Traded favors were not enough.

So, who was in town who he had bitten?

Roger, Doctor Taft. He had forced his will on them, coaxed by Nicholas. But it had been so long since... He doubted that it would to him any good.

He had bitten others, but he had made no effort to create a bond. Like Sabrina. Like Delia.

Even if he could bring Delia to himself he doubted he wanted to.

Then FBI man? He had not even meant to create a bond with him, only earn some extra cash.

But he could at least try. What was his name? Curt... Curt Something...

"Curt!" he ordered in his mind. "Curt, you can hear me. I need your help.. Help me Curt. Tell the sheriff where he can find me. Come for me, Curt."

Had Curt heard him? He would not know for a while, yet.

* * *

George swallowed another drink. His meeting with Maggie had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. He had know that the first time that Barnabas had had sex with him had been more out of gratitude mixed with guilt than love. But he had known that it was up to him whether Barnabas wanted to repeat it or not.

No, it wasn't that what was bothering him.

"Do you need a drinking buddy?"

He looked up. Megan was there, a glass in her hand.

He nodded and she sat down next to him.

"Well, what's the matter with you? You don't look like somebody in the middle of a honeymoon.

George grimaced at that.

"All right, tell me about it. You can even pay me the usual way. Unless Barnabas is making too many demands on you, of course."

"No. He does not demand that."

They went out, and in the street she collected, he holding her while she calmed her thirst. "I should have married you." she said, a bit dreamily "It is a pity it can't work out that way."

He told her of what had happened between him and Barnabas.

"I can see why you'd be mad at him over Ruby."

"That is over. I still resent it at times, of course, but less and less each day. He just did not think things through - which is the story of his life. In the end he handled her well."

"So what is the problem now?"

He told her about Maggie. What she had said to him.

"She is right, in a way." he admitted "and it burns me. Because I used guilt to get Barnabas where I wanted him."

"And you wonder if you are any better than Maggie."

"Yes."

"You are. And Barnabas is not your lover now out of guilt."

"And maybe I am a bit jealous of her. I could easily lose Barnabas to a woman, specially one with whom he was close once."

"Not Maggie. And he could lose you to a man, specially one that reminded you of your first lover."

"It is not the same thing... yes, it is. But I can't keep from worrying.,"

"Well, it goes with the territory. You fall in love, you worry."

* * *

Curt... come to me... come to the caves...

Curt Kingsley walked somnambulistically in his room. He had to go out. He had to find HIM.

Him... he shivered as he realized who he was thinking about. He saw his face again as he had that night. Long sharp fangs, eyes ablaze, the cruel face coming closer and closer.

And now...

"No!" he shouted.

But half of him wanted to go, needed to go. To find HIM and be used again. And again and again..

He would not go. He would find a way to resist this pull.

He forced himself to go back to bed. To lie down, gritting his teeth and staring out of the window without moving.

* * *

There was a stab of pain in Herbert Miller's stomach and not just from the beating. He should not be doing this. Too dangerous. No none that he could trust...

Specially not the people paying him.

Why could he not admit it to himself? They were the Mob, the Mafia, the Cosa Nostra. The kind of stuff that you saw on TV. Sure, on TV it was glamorous. But he had looked into the eyes of someone who could kill you like that and think nothing of it, and he still sweated when he remembered it. It was not glamorous at all.

And there was no way out.

Maybe they'd let him go after this big run.

No, they would not. And the money was not enough anymore.

He thought of turning himself over to the sheriff. It would be a way out. Brant would protect him.

No, he would not. He might not want to after his shooting Derek Pearce.

It must have been Pearce that he killed. Both Barnabas and Megan were about, while Pearce was not. How could he explain his shooting? Say it was an accident? With silver bullets?

* * *

Iris knew that she was becoming a nervous wreck. She could not help it. There was something wrong about Violet. Something should be done, but what could that be?

She had tried both the sheriff and Mega and not only they had refused, but they had vilified her for asking. Sure, she could not say that she felt maternal towards Peter. It was not the kid's fault that he had been spoiled rotten...

But the last time that she had seen him she had felt sorry for him. There had been fear in his face, terror, even.

She could do nothing. Both the sheriff and Megan had told her that much.

But she wanted to do something about it. If only for her own peace of mind.

She still had not tried begging Barnabas. But she was going to, now. Certainly a customary busybody like Barnabas could do something about it.

But would Barnabas want to? Since his rescue by Brant he had become fast friends with him. He would not take her side against Brant.

Still, it was worth a try. If nothing else, she could tell herself that she had tried. That she had not let it happen and done nothing about it.

So she went, worrying what she and Barnabas would say to each other. The feelings in her for him were not wholly dead yet, even if they had been hidden by her anger. But him, he had made clear to her that it was over.

She found him, sitting with Urien, teaching him how to read.

She stiffened involuntarily, remembering what the kid's profession had been.

But Barnabas did not notice her reaction. He welcomed her and told Urien that they wished to be alone.

Urien left. Iris wondered what that look in his eyes meant. Relief from not having to study? Anger and resentment? Bewilderment over his position? A hint of affection for Barnabas? Probably the kid did not know himself.

"So you got yourself a kid at last." Iris commented "What's his name? Urien?"

"Yes. A bit unusual. But biblical. A form of Uriah."

"And what do you expect to do with him?"

"Turn him around, what else? Let him learn that there is something better out there than what he's got the habitude of. Allow him to have a normal life."

"Quite an order." she could not keep from being ironic.

"Not that difficult. It was a lot harder with Willie, since I was not even trying. If still I could do it then, I don't see why I can't with Urien."

Iris shook her head. "There has been gossip about him. It has to do with... with his former profession, and why you keep him here."

"I hope you don't believe it. I've had a lot of people stay with me, and there has not been a whisper before. I don't see why it should be different with him."

"It should not. Barnabas," She gulped. She had to speak of it now. "I want to ask your help. About Peter. I know what George must have told you. Do you mind my telling my side of it?"

* * *

Where could Derek be?

George had been stuck with a sense of foreboding since last night which grew worse as time passed.

Derek had missed his appointment with him. And he did not do that as a rule. Sometimes he came in late, with interesting excuses. But he always showed up.

Not this time.

Maybe he finally had taken the money and ran...

No, something told him that it was different. Something that felt like the echo of a cry of pain.

He had a vague sense that Derek was in danger, in need, and that he had to find him before it was too late.

A couple of times the word "cave" had flashed in his mind, but when he had tried to trace the thought it had gone away. He barely had noticed it...

Maybe he was worrying for nothing...

No, not with this big shipment coming in.

He better go to Derek's place. See if he had moved his coffin.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I don't see why you have to call on him now" the landlady said grouchily "you know that he can't receive anyone in the daytime."

"I know that."

"Why do you want to see him, anyway?" she studied him with crafty eyes.

"Police business."

"But he can't receive you now."

"I want to see his room."

"I see." she narrowed her eyes. "Have you got a search warrant?"

George was amused "Do you want a search warrant?"

"I know my rights."

"Maybe I could extend it to all your records. We could also search the other rooms, the ones you rent to hookers for their business" he smiled cynically "I know and you know who rents your rooms and why. I bet that Derek is the first legit guest that you've had in a long time. I look the other way for my own reasons. I expect a little cooperation in return."

The woman grumbled.

"Well, are you going to cooperate or do I have to go to the judge? Seeing judges sometimes makes me cranky."

The woman grumbled again.

"Well?" George insisted.

She shrugged in defeat "Here's the key."

George took it "Thank you" he said ironically "you can be sure that your cooperation is appreciated."

He went into the room. The coffin was there, all right, along with all the rest of the things that Derek owned. But Derek was not there.

* * *

Curt Kinsgley had sunk into a stupor as soon as the dawn broke. His battle won for the night, he rested, as Derek did, back in the cave.

When he woke up, he'd know that at dusk a new battle would begin.

He would not even be able to tell anyone what was happening to him. He would be like a hooked fish, able to get a few more inches of line by his struggles, but in the end, would be pulled out of the water.

In his dream he saw the face looming over him, felt his throat being torn, his blood being drained, his body being thrown over the rocks...

His hand rested over the gun. But it was useless here. His training in weapons and hand-to-hand combat did not apply anymore. That... creature was unstoppable.

He dreamed about caves. The little light that entered them, the stalactites and stalagmites joining to form arches.. And in the middle of them was the coffin.

* * *

Where could Derek be?

He had not left town. He had found quite a load of money in the room. Well hidden, of course. Derek would certainly take it with him if he ever thought of skipping town.

So maybe he had gotten in trouble. It was dangerous, this investigation. They had known it from the start.

Maybe they had killed him. But how could they have found the right way to do it?

And what was this feeling he kept having about caves?

* * *

Peter whimpered in his room. Delia heard him do so.

She felt his fear, his desire to get away where she could not get at him.

She ought to keep away from him. She did not want to get carried away and damage Peter so badly that she found herself answering a lot of questions. Then the fun had gone out of it. That was not the whip had come down to her. It was not to be used on tame slaves, but to break the wild ones, the ones who had not yet learned to love their chains.

Delia took the whip again, lovingly. Reverently she kissed it.

It was a hungry whip. Hungry and bereft of its master. Once it had been used properly the master would come back and claim it.

A shiver ran through her. Where did those thoughts came from?

It did not matter... she had the whip, and the whip had her.

"I will feed you again." she spoke to it "not now, but I will feed you."

* * *

"Well, Frank?" George eased himself on the chair.

"Well what?"

"Do you know anything about what's the matter with Derek?"

"No. I don't Why should I?"

"For one thing he did a job for you. For another, Buffy used to place bets for him."

"Look, whatever trouble he is in now, I have nothing to do with it. You told me to keep clear of him, and I did."

"So you have no idea of where he might be?"

"None."

"Would Buffy know?"

It was a blind alley. He did not think that either Frank or Buffy knew where Derek was. But he had to eliminate the possibility first.

"Look, sheriff. I understand your being upset about that trick we played on the FBI man. But neither of us has talked with him since."

"So you don't mind my going to your place to look it over?"

"I don't see what's the point. But if that will stop you from coming over and over, go ahead."

* * *

Urien still could not understand.

What did Barnabas and George want with him? Sex was about of the picture. He had had time to convince himself of that. They just took care of him because they waned to.

He had met protectors before. Some of them he still recalled with shuddering, others with contempt. It had been easy to rob them. And they all had wanted one thing out of him.

Barnabas said that he wanted to be a father to him. A father... the last man who had promised to be a father had been the creep that had married his mother. He had not run away fast enough then...

But Barnabas did not act that way. George had, once. But he was not proud of it now. And he would never try again.

Could he trust them? Could he afford to trust? Specially someone like Barnabas? While his wrist still showed the scars made by Barnabas' fangs?

Yet he could not truly be afraid of Barnabas. Maybe he was irritated because Barnabas would not understand that it was no use trying to teach him to read, and kept trying. But afraid... no, not really.

* * *

"George, she's distraught. She's really worried about her nephew."

"Is she?" George did not sound too curious.

"She admitted to me that she did not like him much. But she cares about him. And I don't like the idea of anyone, male or female, staying with Delia."

"Look, Delia has her things, I agree. But she has also lots of good qualities. She might even be good for Violet."

"You should have seen Iris."

George's eyes narrowed. "She came in just to see you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did."

"And she pleaded with you, as an ex-lover, to help her."

Barnabas smiled "Are you jealous?"

"No. But I know how easy you are to manipulate through guilt. Maggie's not the only one who knows how to make you dance. Face it, you _are_ vulnerable to emotional blackmail."

"She did not try that."

"You blame yourself for the breakup of your affair with her, and she probably worked you that way."

"I tell you that she didn't!"

George shook his head. "You refused to see what Maggie was doing to you, too. I am sorry, Barnabas. Look, you know what gets me. If it was a man that Violet was living with, Iris would not care at all, even if he was a bum and a bastard. I have seen enough of that. I don't want any more of that garbage."

"But..."

George cut him with a gesture. "Look, I have enough to worry about. Like Derek disappearing."

"Derek disappeared?"

"Yes. He's missing. And I don't think he skipped town. I am afraid that something happened to him."

"It has to do with this smuggling thing?"

"Yes. Oh, God. I got the Mob moving into Collinsport. I got a very sick FBI man who has a pretty tale to tell about how he got that way. And I got a missing informer. You have not run into him by any chance?"

"No. We actually see each other very little. There is not much in common between us, except that he once tried to turn my housekeeper into a bookie."

"Yes." George began to stretch. It was late and he felt tired. He could not keep up the tension that had been holding him all day. "You two could hardly be more unlike." his hand rested on Barnabas' arm. "Sorry I snapped at you, but I had a very rough day. God knows that he does aggravate me, but I've become attached to him."

Barnabas grinned. "I feel the same way. And also a bit responsible. After, all, I am responsible for Megan, and Megan is responsible for him, and..."

"In any case, vampirism is for him the least of his problems."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Carolyn tore the sheet of paper with irritation. Why did she find it difficult to write to her mother? She had meant to tell her that things were all right now and that she should come home. Instead, hateful words formed themselves on the paper.

There had to be away of doing it. A way to write a letter that would allow their broken relationship to mend.

Why couldn't she write how much she missed her, how much she realized now that she loved her? Why did the old hurt insist on coming through?

The arrival of Barnabas was a welcome relief to her worry.

"I am still uneasy about coming here "Barnabas confessed "I feel that there is something in these rooms that doesn't want me."

"Like me?" there was a slight edge in Carolyn's voice.

"No. Just memories. I saw this place being built. I put many of my hopes in it. And the came to nothing."

"Many of my own dreams came to nothing, too."

"I know they did. If it is any consolation, Dr, Anderson hated doing what he did."

"Yes, they hated it. But they did it anyway." Carolyn still felt bitter about her forced sterilization.

"Roxanne did not give us many choices. It was that or kill you."

"I can understand why you chose this. I can even understand why Roxanne would do it. Probably I would have done the same in her position. But still I can't forgive her. Maybe I am a nasty person."

"It is not an easy thing to forgive. You are right in feeling hurt."

"Once I would have taken it on Quentin or Nicholas. But now... now know it doesn't help."

"Where's Quentin, by the way?"

"Tomcatting somewhere. I do not care how he spends his time. I might even grant him a divorce. I don't think that he'd want custody of Edmund. If he tried, he might get it, and what would he do, then? And it is no fun getting on his nerves anymore."

"It never is."

"No it isn't But for a while it seems that it is. Specially if you are hurting real bad.."

"Yes. I know." Barnabas sighed, remembering too much. "you are hurting and it seems so unfair that you are the only one who does. You want someone else to hurt, too. Misery loves company, as they say."

"I feel sorry for Quentin, now."

"So do I. Can you believe that once I envied him?"

"Yes." Carolyn poured herself a glass of brandy "and you know what? He envies you. You are all he wants to be and can't"

"Yes." Barnabas nodded. "I got self-respect, a sense of purpose, good friends. Yes. I have been blessed, even if it took me a time to realize it. :Poor Quentin."

"Yes. Poor Quentin."

"How's Edmund doing?"

"Studying" Carolyn's face softened. "But now Miss Oates is going easy on him, and I check on it, instead of trusting her implicitly as I used to do." She smiled, a bit embarrassed. "I realize now what a rotten thing I did to you, taking him for myself. Still, he is the best thing that happened to me."

"You have been good for him. I could have never given him a good home."

Carolyn nodded. Still it surprised him not to see her gleefully pounce on his words in search of anything that would hurt him. He had gotten so used to her sarcasm that he had forgotten about the way she used to be in the past, when the fire was there, but tempered with concern and affection.

The way she used to be. The way she could be again.

He'd rather not pursue that line of thought., for it led him back to the way _he_ used to be, when he had bitten Carolyn and forced her to help in his attempts to murder Julia.

She had less to live down than he had.

They talked a bit more, Barnabas finally coming to the point.

"Carolyn, you did not ask me in here just to talk. There is something that you want to ask of me."

She nodded. "Yes. You told me once that I could make it so that people forgot the... the way I used to be."

"It told you before, that if I can do it, you certainly can."

"I have started to believe it myself."

"That's the spirit." he said encouragingly.

"Yep. Win one for the Gipper."

"The Gipper?" Barnabas made a face "I don't want to be reminded that he's our President now."

"And I'd rather not start an argument over it."

"No. There would be no point to it. What is really bothering you?'

"I have tried to write to Mother, but.."

"But it is not as easy as you thought it would be."

"She writes to you, doesn't she?"

"Yes. She does."

"What does she tell you? Is she happy?"

"She sounds that way."

Carolyn shrugged. "So, at least she is happy. I should not begrudge her that. She had such rotten luck with father."

"Yes. It was rotten. But still, your father loved you. He died trying to protect you."

"Almost too late he remembered me."

"Are you angry with him, too?"

"In a way I am. Also with my mother and with Adam. And you and everybody else. But most of it is gone now."

"Good."

"So how come I can't write to her still?"

"Maybe you are trying too hard."

* * *

Worry gnawed at George in the morning. Where was Derek... He did not want to believe that Derek was dead... But a vampire caught outside of his coffin by dawn was dead meat. Or worse, if you went by what Roxanne Drew had told them.

But he could be alive... somehow. Alive and in distress. He did not know where the belief came from...

Barnabas had been missing too, and given up for dead. Had the same thing happened to Derek? Was he chained inside a coffin somewhere?

He remembered that Trask had taken care of erasing the marks on the throats of the women Barnabas fed on, to make everyone believe he was dead...

Curt Kingsley! He was still sick, wasn't he?

Kingsley could lead them to Derek...

He had to see Kingsley. ..

* * *

Kingsley was sweating profusely when George entered the room. He was sick, all right. And he could see the marks on the man's throat.

Derek _was_ alive. In distress, but alive. And Kingsley would lead them to him.

"What do you want, sheriff?' Kingsley said dispiritedly. He had fought one more night, and won... but for how much longer?

"He has been calling you, hasn't he?' George decided that bluntness was best.

Kingsley stared at him. What did he mean...did he know?"

"I have some idea of what you are going through. There is a solution to it."

Kingsley shook. "He's been calling me, two nights in a row. I can feel the pull them. I can barely resist him."

"But you managed, up to now. You have not gone to him." George managed no to sound sarcastic. If the man believed he was in danger this was not the time to disabuse him.

He had to admit that it was an amusing spectacle, and FBI man weeping openly and acting scared.

"I can help you. Do you have any idea of where he might be?"

"I have these flashes of a cave."

"A cave. Well, that would explain how Derek had survived the sunlight."

"Can you find the way there?"

"No...no.."

":You have to. How else can I help you?"

"He's... he's there."

"I know what to do with him. Just show me the way." he put his hand on Kingsley's shoulder " everything is going to be all right. But we have to find him first. There are hundreds of caves. The only one we can find the right one is if you lead us to it. But we will protect you. You will be safe. We will take care of him..."

Kingsley sat down shivering. He had to be brave once more... lead them to the...creature that had such power over him."

"You show me where he is and I will do the rest."

"You will?"

"Of course, I will." George exuded confidence.

"I could not tell anyone about it."

"Yes, I understand how it is." George smiled lopsidedly "I've got some experience on the subject."

"You do?"

"Yes." he could not resist adding the rest. "Just because I am a backwoods sheriff does not mean that I am an idiot."

"I never thought you were."

Silently George promised himself to give Derek a raise for the excellent job he had done on Kingsley. After he found him, of course."

"I will need a few things to take care of the problem. And we need to wait until dark, because that's when he calls you, right?"

"Yes. During the day, it is kind of muted."

"Good. You may want the hospitality of my office. I'd rather know at all times where you are. I don't want you bolting or going off on your own."

Once Kingsley was made as comfortable as possible in a cell - because the possibility of bolting was quite likely - he went back to Derek's' room, this time without an argument with the landlady, and secured a supply of dried blood. Derek might be quite hungry and while he did not as a rule attack people, he was not famished as a rule, either.

He wondered how he'd explain it to Kingsley afterwards. Would he get the idea that Derek had attacked him on orders from the sheriff? He might. And there would be no end of trouble that he could make...

Well, that was another problem, which they had to solve. Now they had to find Derek.

Derek might be hurt, and there might be either a wooden stake or a silver bullet to get out of him. And for this he needed a doctor. He had to find one willing to operate.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Urien looked irritatedly at Barnabas. Why did he have to go through this? He already knew that he could not read, that he would never learn.

"You have a form of dyslexia. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Dyslexia?'

"It means that there is something that makes you see letters backwards and jumbled up. That's why trying to read is so difficult for you.."

Urien shrugged. "I just can't read."

'You can learn."

"It is no use. The teachers gave up on me."

"They were wrong. The worst thing you can do is to give up on a human being."

"Huh..." Urien did not know what to answer.

"There are ways that will allow you to learn."

"Why? I can manage fine without it."

Barnabas shook his head, speechless. Long ago he had taught Ben how to read. But Ben had been eager to learn. He devoured every bit of knowledge that allowed him to step out of his ignorance.

Urien could not care less if he learned or not.

Of course, Urien was too young to understand the value of education, and he had been frustrated too often in the classroom. So, with nothing to show for it, he had stopped trying.

He caught Urien by the back of the neck. "Like it or not" he said "you are going to learn how to read. Don't worry. It won't hurt that much."

* * *

Curt Kingsley had calmed considerably, thanks to Kenneth's sedatives. He was ready to lead them to Derek. Still, he grimaced when George told him it was time to go.

"You better come with us, doc." George told Kenneth.

Kenneth shook his head "This is a weird kind of house call, if you ask me. But I suppose I should have the habitude of it, anyway."

Kingsley looked at Kenneth, trying to understand his meaning. George wondered why he had not brought Julia instead. At least she'd know when to shut up in front of strangers. Well, by the end of the day it would make no difference.

It took them a while to reach the caves, and still longer for Kingsley to find his way in them.

Finally they found the coffin, right in the middle of one of the caves.

Kingsley held his breath and closed his eyes, while he waited for the sheriff to produce the stake and mallet and put an end to it.

"Derek!" George knelt by the coffin. "Are you all right."

"Sheriff...you found me." Derek smiled with relief. "Miller shot me. I can't move. A silver bullet is touching my heart."

"I see." George said slowly. "I'll have Miller picked up."

"No, they are going to have this big shipment next Tuesday... how many days have I been missing."

"Three."

"Then it is still next Tuesday."

Kingsley opened his eyes, not understanding what he was hearing.

"Sheriff, finish him off... he's he's..."

"He's one of my men "George growled at him. "and he has been wounded in the line of duty. Now get out of the way and let me tend to him."

"Do I take care of him now?" Kenneth asked.

"Wait." George took out the bag of dried blood "I better feed him first.; he's famished by now."

"But he...he...he..." Kingsley kept pointing at Derek.

"Do you want your drug smugglers or not? He's making it possible for you"

Derek swallowed greedily the dried flakes. "Thanks. I was real hungry"

Kenneth knelt by his side and began probing for the bullet.

"Ouch!" Derek protested. "Careful, doc."

"Did I hurt you?"

"A bit."

"I think that I'll use local anesthesia on you."

Kingsley shook his head, not sure that he was seeing or hearing right.

"I don't understand this." he told George.

"He's one of my informants." George explained.

"He attacked me!"

"He's something of a practical joker. I gave him a good dressing down because of it."

Kingsley shook his head again.

"Come on, you know that informers are not what you'd wish them to be. Compared with some of the characters you get, Derek is an angel. And he was not calling on you to torment or threaten you. He was screaming for help."

"Yes." Kenneth said. "It is touching the heart. But I will get it out."

"Can I help?"

"No. I can manage this myself. You, try not to talk." he said to Derek.

Derek shut up. He felt Kenneth's probing. Then he felt the instrument being withdrawn and the bullet coming out. He felt strong again.

"You can get up now." Kenneth told him.

"Well, Derek, you'll have to give me the details of this big shipment. And arrange to stay hidden."

"You want Miller to think that I am still out of the way?"

"Not just Miller." he pointed to Kingsley "I would not be surprised if our friend here went looking for you with a stake and hammer. He's quite surprised we did not do it already."

Kingsley shook his head again. This was not happening. It was just a bad dream. Those brownies had been baked with hashish... That was the only explanation.

"All right. I'll keep out of sight." Derek said. "But you keep a watch on him all the same."

It was a strange, exhilarating feeling to have the strength back in him. His joy was so great that he had to transform, so that he could try some flying acrobatics.

"Oh, my God, Oh, my God." Kingsley moaned.

George turned around, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Anything wrong with you?"

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it!"

"Try harder and you will. Now you need some rest. Go back to your hotel and try to sleep."

* * *

"Of course, you can leave Pearl with us tomorrow." Barnabas assured Willie.

"You don't mind playing baby-sitter?"

"Of course, I don't. But bring the supplies with you. I have little in the way of diapers and milk bottles."

Urien listened to this exchange somewhat dreamily. He could not make sense of it. First the reading lessons and now this.

"Are you truly going to bring a baby here?" he asked Barnabas once he had hung up the phone.

"Yes."

"What for?"

"What do you mean, what for? To keep her until her parents come back for her."

Urien looked at him with horror. "Are you going to do to her what you did to me?"

Barnabas could not hide his hurt. The idea that he could hurt little Pearl...

"Why do you expect the worst of everyone?" he said, annoyed "specially of George and me?"

Urien said nothing to this.

"I am serious, Urien. Why do you keep on your guard all the time? Are you afraid of me?"

Urien rubbed his neck absentmindedly.

"Yes. You have a point there. I did bite you. And George was tempted to rape you. But he didn't. And I wouldn't have bitten you if you hadn't tried to run away. I am keeping you here because it is best for you."

Urien shrugged.

"You can't believe it yet." Barnabas accepted it "and nothing that I way will change your opinion. It is a pity. But I can show you. I can let you know that there is something better than what you learned out there. One thing, when Willie comes here, don't offer yourself to him, or he'll punch you."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

A good rest had done wonders for Kingsley. Freed of Derek's mental hold he had been able to sleep soundly for the first time in days. Now he was evaluating his experience and trying to fix blame for it.

That... character, Derek, took orders from Brant, that was clear. Brant had insisted that it was only a practical joke on Derek's part, but he had reason not to believe it.

Probably Derek had attacked him on Brant's instructions. Brant wanted all the glory of the bust for himself and would stop at nothing to get it.

* * *

George did not mistake the sly look that Kingsley had. Very likely his problems were just beginning. He tried being conciliatory.

"I hope you don't take it badly, my deceiving you. I had to find Derek and I could not explain to you then what the real situation was. You heard what he had to say, didn't you, about the big shipment? You don't want to lose that."

Kingsley studied him curiously "You seem to overlook a lot in the man, if man is the word."

"Well," Brant said amiably. "you know how informers are. You do have to look the other way in certain things if you want to keep on using them."

"But our informers are human! They are not..."

"It just means that up to now no vampire has got information that the FBI wants."

Kingsley shivered. "You speak of it so calmly... about these creatures..."

"I've had dealings with him for a while" George's look was compassionate now. He had some idea of what Kingsley was going through "Pearce is no killer. He's a con man, though, and he has pulled some beauties... he lives on dried animal blood, as you saw me give him, and tries to relieve people of money with his schemes."

Kingsley rubbed his neck.

"All right. You rubbed him the wrong way, and he decided to play a joke on you. He probably thought it would be hilarious to put a scare on a G-man."

"This is just B-movie stuff."

"No, it is real. But you can live with them."

"You mean that there is more than one?"

George's neck prickled. He did not want Kingsley knowing about Barnabas and Megan.

"Well, Derek mentioned others he ran into before he came here. Some of them are not so harmless, I understand, but if they come here, I should know what to do. You want more information, you can talk to him."

Kingsley blanched. "No, thank you. I'll pass on that one."

George smiled inwardly. End of subject. Now they could plan for the moment when Miller brought in that shipment.

Kingsley would remain a problem. At the moment he was intimidated by his experience and eager to make the bust. But once he was away and thinking he did not owe Brant anything he would make trouble. He did not care for an FBI file on Derek. Or himself.

It was a bad situation that needed to be handled.

There was a way that Kingsley could be made to forget. Only that kind of thing did not work out too well. Witness Maggie. While Maggie had found reasons to keep silent about her experience, there was no reasons for Kingsley to do so. This was one problem that he had to consult with Megan, to see the best way it could be handled...

* * *

"Have you ever changed a diaper?" Barnabas asked Urien cheerfully.

Urien shook his head.

"Well, come here. Maybe both of us can learn at the same time."

Urien could not shake off the strangeness he felt as he watched Barnabas try to change Pearl, sleeves rolled up, an intent expression in his face, safety pins in his mouth. You'd never know him for what he really was.

"Are you watching?" he asked Urien. "First you fold this way, then this way."

Urien nodded absentmindedly.

"Or is it this way? I wish Willie had left instructions..."

Urien nodded, still not trusting himself to speak.

"There, this is the correct way to do it."

The diaper was not perfectly set, but it would hold until the next change. And later on, Willie would come for her.

"Have you ever seen such a beautiful baby? So soft, so pretty, so little...

Barnabas had not wiped his mouth properly. There was still dried blood on the corner of his lips and it made a strange contrast with the way he held the baby and engaged in baby talk... it made no sense. Urien could not find any...

"You mean that you are going to play mother to it?" he asked, too astounded to be careful.

Barnabas nodded, a big smile on his face. "And you are going to play older brother."

Urien shook his head.. "Not me. I am too told to have a little sister."

"I was older than you when Sarah was born."

"Sarah?"

"My sister." he saw Urien's reaction and added "What's the matter? Am I not allowed to have sisters or family, for that matter?"

"What happened to Sarah?"

"She died of pneumonia." It no longer hurt to speak of her "about two hundred years ago."

Urien's jaw dropped "Are you that old?"

"I don't look it, do I?"

Urien backed away in fear. He did not like Barnabas to refer to his... condition.

"Don't you want to know the whole story? Sit down, Urien. I will tell you all of it. Maybe that will stop you from wondering what I am up to."

He told it. All of it, not glossing over the bad parts. His voice faltered several times, for he had much to be ashamed of. But the small weight in his arms could convince him that those times were gone and would never come back. Then it was easier to speak. There was no shame in his memories later on, though there were occasional embarrassments.

"And what are you going to do with me now?" Urien said, once he was finished.

"It should be obvious to you." he smiled ironically "I have taken in others in the past, when they needed help."

"But I don't want help! I can manage fine!"

"A boy your age should be going to school. maybe working part time for a decent wage. You should have a family. You should live like a human being."

"How I live is no concern of yours!"

"I am making it my concern." he shifted Pearl so that she rested more comfortably in his arms "and you could do much worse than me."

* * *

Herbert could not repress shivers as the moment came closer. This is what he had been waiting for so long... when it all paid up.

So what if what was inside those cases were drugs? He did not force anyone to shoot up. They bought the stuff all by themselves.

Anyway, what business was it of him?

He still hurt from the beating he had taken when he had shot Pearce. But it had been worth it. That spy was now gone.

The men waited at the shore, tapping their feet impatiently, and touching the guns under their coats surreptitiously. They were glad that they had put a tracer in Miller's boat. They could now follow his route without him. This guy Miller was a weak link, too easily spooked, too nervous. They should get rid of him.

A few feet away, crouched behind rocks, Kingsley, George, and the deputies waited, gun in hand, for the moment when Miller docked.

Eventually he did.

"Is it there?" The thin lipped man asked.

"Yes." Herbert said "Take a look, if you want."

They went up the boat and opened the crates.

"Yes." they said "this is it."

"Good" the thin lipped man said, then turned to Herbert. "You want to be paid now?"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." the man said blandly, his lips curling up in sarcasm "too bad that you are too unstable to be of further use."

Still with a slight smile, he shot Herbert.

Herbert did not even scream as he collapsed.

George got up automatically "Police!" he shouted "This is a raid! Put your hands up!"

It was too late to save Herbert. The thought made him sick, then he suppressed it.

Because they were now shooting at them.

'

The bullets flew between the men on the boat and his own men. Herbert had completely stopped the boat so that they would not be able to sail away immediately, and anybody trying to start the boat would make a good target.

George wondered how many more would be shot before the battle was over, and how badly. At least the rocks shielded them well.

The gun battle went on, the bullets ricocheting dangerously on the rocks. One of the mobsters, not the thin lipped one, had been shot and was bleeding next to Herbert's body. But the others kept firing.

George ground his teeth. All the glamour of gun battles, as seen in movies and TV came to him. They made it seem so much fun. They did not tell you of the smell of blood, and the fear in your stomach, or having to look at your men and wonder which one would be shot, to whose wife he would have to tell she was now a widow...

Impatient, he got up to take better aim.

The burning pain hit him in the arm. He felt his knees give way, then stared, dumbfounded, at the blood seeping out of his arm.

He had been shot.

The firing went on. The mobsters did not want to give up. They still thought they had a chance.

Eventually it stopped. The arrests were made, and the mobsters were led away in handcuffs. But by then George was to dizzy to care.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Urien looked up with dismay. Why go on with this? He already knew that it was useless. Why couldn't Barnabas see it too?

"Damn stubborn... bastard" he thought.

He did not notice that he had begun to think of Barnabas as a human being. A particularly pesky one, all right. All his apprehensions and nightmares seemed to have become less important. All that he could notice was that he was being taught to read, and that he did not like it.

But he had to go though with it, anyway.

"You don't like it?""

"I don't see what's the use of this.

"You are lucky. You could have Miss Oates as a teacher. _she's_ really mean. You don't study and she makes you stand in a corner for quite a while. I am much easier to please.

"But why do it at all?"

"Because it needs to be done. And don't tell me again that you can't learn. There is a right way to do it, and it will work if you give it a try.

"But what's in it for you? What difference does it make to you if I can read or not? I can still run errands, clean up this place, and do all the other stuff you ask of me."

"And that's all you want for yourself? To work here for the rest of your life?"

"Until you let me go."

"I would let you go tomorrow if I thought you had a place to go to. But I will not let you go so that you can go sell yourself."

"Why do you care?"

The words were defiant, but there was longing in Urien's eyes. The same longing that had been in Ruby's.

So young. And so disillusioned with people, with the world.

"Urien" his voice deepened. "I know that I can't ask you to start trusting people all of a sudden. But you have to... to start thinking that not everybody is out to get you. That some of us mean well, and that there's more to life than hustling. You have to believe in yourself. There is so much more for you."

"What else could be there?"

"Plenty. But it starts with trying to read. You can do it."

"Why can't you get into your stupid head that I can't?"

"Because you can."

"Same way as you can step into the sunlight?"

"It is not the same thing."

"It is. I can't learn. Why not leave it alone?" he shrugged "why not stop kidding yourself?"

Urien looked so pitiful that Barnabas could not resist putting a hand on Urien's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

Urien looked up and opened his collar "You want it to be me tonight?" he asked defiantly.

"No." Barnabas said softly "not now."

He knew what Urien usually offered. He almost pulled out his hand, but thought better of it. There was something that he had to make Urien understand.

"No" he repeated "I don't want that. But stay here and look up."

Urien shivered. Something was going to happen and he suspected that he would not like it.

Barnabas kept the hand on Urien's shoulder and with the other hand began brushing Urien's forehead.

"Urien...Urien... how can I explain it to you? I want to give you affection, but when someone offers you that, you think that it means sex. You have had too much sex and too little affection in your life. I want you to remember what affection is. You do remember some of it? At least when you were a little baby?"

"Yes. Mom liked to hug me." Urien admitted "but that changed when I grew up."

"Remember how it was." Barnabas knew that it was cheating, in a way, but he did it. He stared at Urien's eyes, putting him slightly under his spell. "I want you to think that you are a little boy, that you have your mother to love you, to take care of you, to be good to you."

Urien nodded. His eyes became heavy.

Then the telephone rang, breaking the mood. Irritated, he went to answer it. Then Willie told him what had happened...

George had been shot.

* * *

George laid in the hospital, resting, somewhat embarrassed to find himself in this situation. But also relieved that none of his men had been hit. He had been the only casualty. For his side, that is.

One of the hoods was dead, as was Herbert Miller. He winced remembering how he had died. He had not even had the time to scream. Just the small pop of the silenced weapon, and then the small, sickening noise of the body falling down.

It should not happened that way.

Some part of him insisted that it had been Miller's fault. He hung around with mobsters, he brought in drugs for them, he got what he had been asking for.

And he had tried to kill Derek. That silver bullet meant premeditated murder.

If Miller had lived, he'd be in a cell with the others.

But he wasn't. He was at the coroner's office, on a slab. The shock of it did not wear off. For he had known him. He had not liked him, but still had the habitude of seeing him around. Now he was gone.

He did not notice when Barnabas stood at his side. Not until he sat down on the bed.

"They said that you are better now." Barnabas' voice was strained.

"Only a flesh wound." he answered. "Even if it hurts quite a bit."

"You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't..." he knew where Barnabas had headed and decided to change the conversation before it went there. Not now. "Miller's dead. Do you know what this means? There are two children involved."

"Sandy is away with Chris."

"Right. Who is going to take care of the children until she comes back? I do not want them to go to Social Services."

"We need someone willing to take them in... That's the way it was done in the old times. Someone who would take them in. I know of several people who'd be glad to."

"Good. Will you arrange it?" There were things that needed to be said between the two of them. But not here. Not with so many people who could overhear around...


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"I know that it is a dangerous job. But it is my job" George protested. "that's what the taxpayers pay me for."

"They pay you to get shot at?' Barnabas shook his head.

"Someone has to do it."

"You could have been killed."

"Yes. I could But I wasn't"

God, there it was. The cop's wife lament. His men had to face it after each shootout, after each time they were injured. he had been free of it up to now. He had been unattached, had not one to account to.

That was no longer true.

"I don't like it. I don't want to know that these things can happen at any moment. When I am sleeping during the day I do not know what happens. I don't want to lie down every morning worrying if you'll still be around when I wake up."

"I am sorry" George sounded contrite enough. "but it is my job."

Barnabas took George's hand between his. "I lost too many people, George. I cannot lose you too. You mean too much. I love you as much as... as I loved Josette. I love you even more than that. and if one day I get up and find out that you were shot by some creep and that you are lying on some cold slab..."

George squeezed Barnabas' hand. "I promise to be real careful from now on. And look at it this way, We got the Mob out of Collinsport."

Barnabas nodded, still unconvinced.

"Barnabas" George said, more forcefully "I could get killed in a car accident. Or be found to have terminal cancer. Or a stroke. I wish I could promise that I will always be with you, but I can't. But I will not leave you willingly."

They embraced, in spite of the pain in George's arm. Barnabas held him close "It should be enough.." he said to himself "it should be enough... but it is not..."

"George" he finally found the courage to say it "Would you consider... becoming what I am?"

* * *

Delia extended the whip in front of Violet's eyes.

"It is not enough." she said" not enough for it."

Violet shivered, but not out of fear, as he rested her hand on the outstretched leather.

"What do we have to do?"

"We have to bring its master back. And soon it will be the time for it."

"When?"

"Very soon. But there will be dangers. There are those who will oppose us. Megan Graham. Sheriff Brant. Angelique Rumsen. And Iris White. Specially her."

Violent didn't blanch as she heard her sisters' name. "How will we deal with them?" she asked. And there was only eagerness in her voice.

"There will be ways. We might have to lure them here. Starting with your sister. She's the closest danger. Can you do it?"

"Yes."

Delia wrapped the whip around Violet's neck. "We need one more thing before you do it. Don't fail, Violet." she said. "Do not fail _him_."

* * *

Urien's eyes were closed and his breathing was regular. He was sound asleep.

Barnabas sat by his side, studying him, feeling a bit sad, a bit afraid.

Why was he disappointed that George had not agreed enthusiastically to what he proposed? He himself was not sure about it. Why did he expect George to be more sure than he himself was?

And Urien... it was hard to know that he had still not earned his trust. Not fully. Yet he had known that it would take time.

And their relationship had altered, ever so subtly. A little bit of trust was there. A small seed that he still did not know whether it would be allowed to blossom.

He thought about Willie. He had not cared about Willie's trust, only his obedience. How could Willie have come to care for him at all? It was still a mystery to him, a small miracle that he could not understand.

Willie. His mouth curved into a bitter smile. Willie was a good friend. And what had he done to deserve him?

He looked at Urien again. Dave Woodard had handled boys like Urien himself. And he had reached them, made a change in their lives. Was it because he took them to bed? Certainly one of the reasons why Urien was afraid of him was his refusal to do that. If disconcerted him, to be given something, with no payment demanded.

But it would be wrong. Urien did not need to be exploited further. He needed affection, untainted by ulterior motives. Urien had known so little of it Deprived of it, believing that he was not even entitled to it... He had known the feeling. It had driven him once, more fiercely than the bloodlust. He had thought that it was the thirst that drove him to kill, but it was not. Were only the thirst, he would have released them once he reached the point of satiety. But he did not want to let them go, because it was the only human contact that he had. So he clung to them, and kept drinking and drinking...

Then, between Willie and Julia, he did not need it so much. He had abused them terribly, but they had provided him with human warmth. And he had been able to release his victims alive...

He had not believed Julia when she offered to help him. He could not believe that anyone could care for him, would ever want to do anything for him.

Like Urien, he could not believe in anyone's good intentions. Like Urien he believed he did not deserve them..

There was something of Willie in Urien... But there was also more of himself.

He did not know what would happen with George and him. But he knew what would happen with Urien. Because he would make it happen.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"We still have the problem of Curt Kingsley" George told Megan "He is sure that Derek attacked him on my orders. And Derek being Derek, he does not have that big a control over him."

"So you want to know how I can fix things. Unofficially of course." she smiled.

"Well, it does not go with my uniform to be doing nasty things to an FBI agent, no matter how much the jerk deserves it."

"Well, you are not in a uniform, but a hospital gown now. And from what I heard, you may be in for a few days. "

"For a bullet wound?"

"It matters where the bullet hits, it seems."

"Well... are you going to handle Kingsley?"

"Yes. We need to keep him in one place. I would suggest Wyncliffe where Julia and I could work him over, but that might be difficult to explain.. But we can get him admitted to the hospital, and have the doctor in charge give us the run of his room."

"And how do you explain his being admitted to the hospital?"

"Easy. He was quite run down for a few days. We all saw him then. He seemed to get better. He went on the raid and overextended himself. Then went celebrating. But he was still sick, and collapsed... Later on, there will be whispers as to whether it Legionnaire's disease or some such. He will recover, his memory of vampires gone, and will go back to DC, with a lecture on proper rest."

"And how is he going to collapse?"

"He is going to meet a good looking redhead, who will take him partying and show him good time."

He smiled. "And you can certainly show him a good time, if no one else can."

"Yes." she rearranged George's pillow so that he was more comfortable. "Too bad about Derek, though, that he had to spend those two days calling for help with no one coming." she said pointedly.

"Well, we did not know where he was, and Kingsley was not willing to go look for him."

"He should not have been calling Kingsley, and causing him all kinds of problems. If he had not, it might have been easier to make him forget. He should have been calling you."

"Calling me?"

"You should have let him bite you, so that he could call on you for help. "

"You think I should have?"

"George, you are my friend, I do not like to lecture you, but what you did to Derek was to put him right in the line of fire with no backup whatsoever. Why? Because he is Derek and you do not care if he lives or dies? Because he is a vampire, and thus indestructible? How could you have been so careless with him? And in a major bust, dealing with killers? Is baring your wrist to him such a horrible proposition that you let him go completely on his own with no way to contact you? You were lucky that he had attacked Kingsley. If not, he would still be out there, and you'd have lost the bust, and all the glory that is coming your way."

"I sorry, it is just..."

"Is it that he is just an informer, and is not worth anything?" Is it because he is a petty thief, and therefore no worth worrying about? Its it because he is a vampire, and therefore not human? You cannot treat that way the people who work for you..

George looked down. Megan did not lecture often, but when she did, she certainly gave Barnabas a run for his money.

"Think about it, George. And when you leave the hospital go to Derek and make it right. Tell him that from now on you will always know where he is, and when he needs backup. Tell him that you won't be so cavalier with his life in the future."

"I will. You are right... I got to think about it when he was missing... and. when you are right, you are right... Megan...one question I have to ask... What is it like, being a vampire?"

Megan looked at him and nodded.

"Barnabas asked, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I would think about it."

"Well, next time he asks tell him that I strongly advice against it. And I'll tell you why. Because you do not want to be left alone through the centuries."

"He says that we can be together..."

"George, the worst thing about this life is that you are going to live a looong time. Which means that not only you are going to bury the people you know and love, you are also going to bury their grandchildren. You will be left alone, and mourning over, and over...I do not intend to last this long, and this job gives me plenty of chances of getting killed, and one day it will happen. And Barnabas will not last long, either. He has a self-destructive streak, if you haven't noticed. I would to surprise me if you buried him, and it is better that you are still human when you do it."

"You are very sure of it."

"He has said more than once than he will not visit Willie's grave nor Julia's. Now, how do you think he will avoid it? And, no matter how much he loves you, he is truly bonded to them, in a way you can never be. And then..."

"What else?

"It is a feeling I have. That his journey is not truly over. Do you realize what a long road he's traveled? From the crazed creature that Willie let out to what he is now? And he keeps changing, I can see the changes...My feeling is that his journey is not done.. And that you are only a stop along the way. He may be going down a path where you can't follow. No, George, do not be changed. You'll be left alone in the end."

* * *

Will Kingsley forget his attack? Will Urien learn to trust? What are Delia and Violet plotting? What is Yolanda Oates real reason to be in Collinwood?

Stay tuned.


End file.
